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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24546523">Graveyard</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarshmallowRabbit/pseuds/MarshmallowRabbit'>MarshmallowRabbit</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Jessica Jones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But not always into something better, Drama, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Enemies to Lovers, Evil Kilgrave, F/M, Love can change a person, POV Multiple, Snarky Jessica Jones, Sympathetic Kilgrave, Toxic Relationship, Tragedy, Unhappy Ending, Unhealthy Relationships</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 00:48:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>69,729</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24546523</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarshmallowRabbit/pseuds/MarshmallowRabbit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Kilgrave likes to think he has an aptitude for saving people. If someone wants a break from their bleak, mundane lives, he’s here to help. But when he comes across a woman who’s impervious to his suggestions, some creativity is in order. It’s up to Jessica Jones to save Kilgrave’s newest obsession before the woman’s untimely demise, or worse – her disinterest in being saved.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Zebediah Killgrave/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. of Jessica Jones is the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.</p><p>Now that is out of the way...<br/>I want to point out that this story is a depiction of an (non-physically) abusive relationship. There may be moments when the actions of the characters can come off as sweet or even loving, but ultimately in no way do I think the relationship written in this story is healthy. </p><p>Side note- the rating for this story is currently M, but will be changing to  E (for sexual content) once a certain chapter is published. I will give a heads-up at the beginning of that chapter for those of you who may want to skip over it.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A big thank you to my beta editor, PaperGirlInAPaperTown, who gave me amazing feedback and the confidence to publish this story :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Alright, let’s get out here.”</p><p>Puddles rippled under the tires of the town car as it slowed. Warped reflections of shining red and white lights bounced atop the murky water before going dark when the driver’s door popped open. A splash joined the chorus of thrumming traffic as a man dashed around the car to open the back door. He watched intently as a polished pair of oxfords stepped onto the pavement, and was relieved when they remained dry.</p><p>“Well, would you look at that,” the smartly dressed man said, more to himself than the blank-faced driver. A grin spread over his face as he took a step forward and regarded the engraved words beneath a red archway. “This used to be some dingy little crepe place. Looks like the new management took it in a different direction, eh?” The smartly dressed man looked over his shoulder. A frown crossed his features as he regarded the vehicle interior. “What are you waiting for? Get out here, now.”</p><p>A blonde figure scrambled out of the backseat. Her companion let out a disapproving tut as he watched her grapple with the large coat sliding off her shoulders. The smartly dressed man and the driver shared a look which normally would’ve been perceived as one of solidarity concerning her frazzled behavior. But the driver didn’t seem to be in the joking mood as he only stared in rapt anticipation.</p><p>The well-dressed man turned away and walked toward the restaurant. “Come on, I’m starved. And you –” the man waved over his shoulder, “I’ll give you ring. Be nearby so I don’t have to wait long.”</p><p>The driver’s affirmation was drowned out as the heavy red door swung open and spilled an entire restaurant’s worth of conversations into the night. The man in its threshold was nothing but a black shadow, for a moment, before the warm light accentuated his sharp features and the dark suit which was now a noticeable shade of plum.</p><p>On this particular night, Kilgrave had two choices of where to dine:</p><p>There was a high-end Italian restaurant, Giorgio’s, directly down the street. In another life, Kilgrave would’ve strolled into Giorgio’s, obtained the table with the best view of the riverfront, and sipped Merlot while conversing with his beautiful – albeit dull – date. That dinner would also include a confused hostess, a young couple giving up their table for an inexplicable reason, an anxious waiter, and a chef who for the life of him couldn’t say why he had agreed to make a specialty pasta dish that wasn’t on the menu.</p><p>But that was not this life.</p><p>In this life, the bustling atmosphere of the new Chinese establishment, Golden Phoenix, had caught his attention. It didn’t seem as high-end as Giorgio’s, but Kilgrave couldn’t deny he enjoyed a good chow-mien. And there had to be <em>something </em>to this place, considering how many people were waiting for a table. Lucky for him, a few whispered remarks were all that was needed for Kilgrave to walk through the group of people in the foyer like Moses parting the Red Sea.</p><p>“Lovely, lovely,” Kilgrave said, taking in the red walls, the smell of new carpet, and the gleaming mahogany tables. Yes, this would do just fine.</p><p>There was a group of three women waiting before an empty podium. The tallest member of the trio was shaking in laughter, likely at the expense of the woman in the green dress who stood barefoot and looked like someone had spit in her coffee.</p><p>“They don’t even fit!” the tall woman said between giggles. “And they were five hundred bucks!”</p><p>“Six fifty,” the third woman, a short blonde, said. She had thrown the statement out in an absent manner as she craned her head in search for the missing occupant behind the podium.</p><p>“Oh, my God,” the tall woman said, the woman in green’s expression growing sourer. “Are you fucking serious?”</p><p>“They’re Sophia Webster,” her companion said. She stared down the taller woman as if this was all the explanation needed.</p><p>“Don’t you already have a pair of shoes that look just like that?” the blonde woman asked. The enraged look on her friend’s face morphed into surprise as a coat was literally thrown into her arms.</p><p>“Hang this up,” Kilgrave said, adjusting the cuffs of his jacket. “And you bloody well better make sure it doesn’t get wrinkled getting bunched up with everyone else’s rubbish.”</p><p>The woman in green stared at the coat as if she’d never seen one before. “Uh, what?”</p><p>Kilgrave grunted in frustration, raising his voice. “I said, hang that up.”</p><p>“Uh.” An owlish expression graced the woman’s face as her eyes rose to meet his. “Um, sorry,” she said. “I don’t work here.”</p><p>Kilgrave, who had been halfway through instructing his date to remove her coat, froze. His dark eyes tracked his way back to the woman who was watching him as if he were a talking donkey.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I don’t work here,” the woman said, holding out his coat. “I think the hostess will be back in a minute, though.”</p><p>Kilgrave looked the woman up and down, his eyes lingering on her bare feet. “Put your bloody shoes on.”</p><p>The woman raised her brows, glancing down. “Oh, oops – I forgot. We’re probably about to get seated, anyway.”</p><p>Apprehension still lingered behind Kilgrave’s eyes, but the tension that had momentarily appeared between his shoulder blades relaxed as the woman focused on a pair of silver heels. “Now the three of you,” he said, gesturing with his thumb, “get to the end of the line.”</p><p>The odd interaction between Kilgrave and the woman in green had garnered some interest. But without so much as a raised brow, the pair of women flanking her spun about and strode toward the entrance.</p><p>“Wait, what?” the woman with expensive – albeit ill-fitting – shoes said, hopping on one foot as she slid on her heel. “We were here first! Guys, what are you doing?”</p><p>The woman let out an annoyed sound as the back of the silver heel caught on her foot. She used a finger to guide the shoe into place before looking up. She was met with the flabbergasted expression of the incredibly domineering man in the purple suit.</p><p>“Get to the back of the line,” he said. The words were spoken in a manner of unease that had certainly not been there before.</p><p>“What?! No!” the woman said, gesticulating. She roughly shoved the purple trench coat back into the arms of its owner. “We’ve been standing here waiting for a table for, like, thirty minutes! You can wait like everybody else, man!”</p><p>She looked to the crowd of people in the foyer for support. New Yorker’s weren’t pushovers, by any means, and normally there’d be at least a few people standing in her corner.</p><p>Normally.</p><p>But for some reason, the crowd was dead silent. A few people were staring off into space as if they’d just been plopped into unfamiliar territory. Those that met her gaze quickly looked away as if they should be ashamed.</p><p>“You don’t …” Kilgrave’s voice trailed off. He swallowed, like the very idea of speaking the words on his mind caused his mouth to go dry. “You’re not doing what I say.”</p><p>This earned him a look as if he were being sized up. Kilgrave was dressed like a big-shot; but in New York, who wasn’t? High-paid lawyers, actors, stock brokers, and CEO’s were a dime a dozen. A man in a suit showing up with a pretty blonde on his arm wasn’t anything new. What <em>was </em>weird was someone having the gall to push himself to the front as if it were his right. Even the other rich douchenozzles would have the intelligence to call ahead, or send some hapless assistant to stand in line.</p><p>“Hey, Penny! Tara!” the woman said, looking over Kilgrave’s shoulder. “Come on, guys! What are you doing?”</p><p>Her friends were, dutifully, at the back of the line. In fact, as other patrons trickled in, the women would reposition themselves to put the newcomers first.</p><p>“Guys?” the woman said, concern growing in her voice.</p><p>“Why?” Kilgrave said. He backed away, regarding her as if she was wearing a leather mask and wielding a chainsaw. “Why don’t you do as I say?”</p><p>“What the hell is going on?” the woman asked, looking between Kilgrave and the group near the door. “You all see this, right?”</p><p>“Jump in the air,” Kilgrave said, brandishing a shaking finger. “As high as you can! NOW!”</p><p>“What the fuck?” Her blue eyes darted about in trepidation, wondering if the entire affair may be part of some twisted prank.</p><p>“Pull out your hair!” Kilgrave said, gaining steam as he stepped toward her. “Scratch out your eyes! Yell until you’re hoarse! Anything – do anything!”</p><p>“Fuck you!” the woman said, not daring to turn her back on the psychopath striding toward her. She stumbled back until she was near the door and grasped on to the tall woman’s – Penny’s – arm. “Guys, let’s go! Someone, call the cops!”</p><p>Penny didn’t move. She only stared; eyes wide and her breath coming out in short bursts. “I … can’t leave the back of the line.”</p><p>“What?! Let’s go!” the woman said, pleading. She released Penny’s arm, backing away as Kilgrave advanced.</p><p>A gust of cold air heralded a group of three men in suits as they stepped through the door. The carefree nature to their expressions fell away when a gruff tone hit their ears. Their attention shifted between the screaming man in a purple suit and the odd pair of women who inexplicably gave up their place in line. The trio exchanged confused looks, but the gaze of one of the men hardened when it became clear that the object of the man in purple’s scorn was a woman who’d knocked over a potted shrub in her scramble to get away.</p><p>“Tell me who you are!”</p><p>The purple man’s demand went unanswered when the woman in green nearly lost her footing on loose soil.</p><p>“OK, pal.” A hand was placed on Kilgrave’s chest. A steady gaze locked with an enraged stare. “Calm down! You’re scaring the lady!”</p><p>“You,” Kilgrave said, clenching his jaw, “will <em>not </em>touch me.”</p><p>The hand was withdrawn as if brushing a hot stove. This was followed by a baffled look and the man taking a step back. “What the–?”</p><p>Kilgrave’s lips pulled back in a snarl. “EVERYONE, JUST SHUT UP!”</p><p>All voices fell away. There was still the clinking of utensils as a few of the patrons continued to eat, but otherwise, the restaurant grew silent.</p><p>“All of you, give me space!” Kilgrave said. Everyone in the area except Kilgrave and the woman in green backed away. The startled woman hugged her elbows, craning her head around.</p><p>“What the fuck?” she said, eyes darting about. “What the fuck?!”</p><p>“How,” Kilgrave said, teeth clenched. “How are you not doing what I ask?”</p><p>This was met with panicked breathing. The woman in green dared to look away from Kilgrave to regard her friends. An apologetic look fell over her features before she made a break for it – pushing her full weight against the door and scrambling away. Silver heels flew from her feet, and cries for help were accented with clouds of hot breath as she tore down the sidewalk.</p><p>Something ugly passed over Kilgrave’s features. He took a deep breath, and the look dissipated.</p><p>“You’re a runner, eh?” Kilgrave said. He turned to regard the blonde standing near the podium. A long fur coat hung halfway off her shoulders; the garment looking entirely out of place on a young woman who up until just a few hours ago regularly wore nothing more extravagant than name-brand yoga pants.</p><p>“Would you be able to catch up to her, if I asked?” Kilgrave said.</p><p>“Yes,” the woman said, her tone flat.</p><p>“Hmm.”</p><p>Kilgrave regarded the pair of crimson doors for a moment before turning around. “Lucky for her, I’m starved. I think I’ve got another way to find her that will involve less … screaming, anyway.”</p><p>Kilgrave stuffed his hands in his pockets. His eyes roved over the silent crowd before landing on his targets.</p><p>“You two ladies would be delighted to join me for dinner,” Kilgrave said, his tone taking on a cheerier fashion. He held out his arms, Penny and the blonde woman – Tara – each taking an elbow. The two women now appeared anything but horrified as they shot Kilgrave shy smiles.</p><p>“And you,” Kilgrave said, eyeing up the man who’d confronted him earlier. “You’re gonna go commit a felony. I won’t say which one – dealer’s choice – just make sure you get caught afterwards, eh?”  </p><p>The man bolted out the door. Kilgrave exhaled in a weary fashion before turning about. “Ah … let’s see,” he said, eyes wandering over the restaurant. “Alright, everyone! You will all be very amused by the dinner theater you just witnessed, and continue on with your meal without further ado. And you lot –”</p><p>Kilgrave indicated a table near the window with his chin. “Have somewhere else very pressing to be at the moment.”</p><p>The group of four people at the table jumped to their feet, collecting their belongings as the ambient sounds of the crowded restaurant suddenly returned to a familiar roar.</p><p>“I’ll take that table,” Kilgrave said, catching the eye of a nearby waitress. “Clean it off immediately.”</p><p>The woman nodded, the tray of dirty glasses she was carrying hitting the floor with a crash. Kilgrave tracked the waitress’s movements with his eyes as she scurried to the other end of the room. He watched her collect dishes for a moment before his mind wandered elsewhere.</p><p>“Tell me your friend’s name.”</p><p>“Elise,” the two women answered in unison. The immediate reaction from Kilgrave was to groan.</p><p>“Don’t do that,” Kilgrave said, making a face. “The whole ‘talking in unison’ thing like you’re out of a horror film. You – the pretty one.” Kilgrave glanced to Penny, who beamed. “You know this Elise woman well?”</p><p>“Yes,” Penny said, never dropping the delighted expression. “We’ve been friends for many years.”</p><p>“Peachy.” Kilgrave looked about, his attention landing on his former date who was hovering behind him like a nervous puppy.</p><p>“What are you still doing here?” Kilgrave said, frowning. “I don’t need you anymore; go.”</p><p>The woman’s features twisted as if they’d been released from a mold. She let out a whine, turning and running from the restaurant. She was a fast runner, so it didn’t take her long to get to the edge of the block.</p><p>Hope Shlottman kept running. She would get back to her apartment, her confused roommate, and eventually her even more confused parents after hopping on a flight back to Nebraska. Hope needed to get far, <em>far </em>away from that man. As far away as she could.</p><p>Lucky for her, Hope would never see Kilgrave again.</p>
<hr/><p>“Oh, Penny, thank God!”</p><p>Elise wrapped her arms around Penny, squeezing her tight.</p><p>“Uh, good morning?” Penny said, awkwardly patting Elise on the back. The arms were withdrawn, and Penny was able to get a better look at Elise’s tear-streaked cheeks.</p><p>“Jesus, Elise, what happened?”</p><p>If anyone in the office looked the most put-together in the mornings, it was generally Elise. Today this was countered by a lopsided bun and black globs of mascara settling in the corners of her eyes.</p><p>“What?” Elise said. She wiped her face with shaking fingers. “What do you mean? The police said you were fine, but you weren’t taking my calls, and I was worried that crazy guy had done something to you or Tara …”</p><p>“Elise. Elise!”</p><p>Penny firmly gripped Elise by the shoulders. A gentle smile graced her features.</p><p>“I think you’re confused, babe. You left last night when you weren’t feeling good, remember? You had like, five shots or something. I called you to make sure the cab got you home OK, and you said you needed to sleep it off. There was no ‘crazy guy.’ Not unless the cab driver did something …?”</p><p>“No!” Elise said, shaking her head. “No! I’m talking about the guy in the suit, remember? He was British and a total douche?”</p><p>“Uh, to our disappointment,” Penny said. “Not a single guy approached us all night – even after you left.”</p><p>“Where’s Tara?” Elise said, looking over the short dividers of the open-plan office.</p><p>Penny smirked. “She’s not feeling good, either. The two of you are such lightweights.” This statement seemed to do little to put Elise at ease.</p><p>“She’ll be in around lunch,” Penny said, reassuringly running her hand over Elise’s back. “She’s OK, Elise. Let’s just get to work and remind ourselves that you can’t hold your vodka.”</p><p>Elise frowned, but nodded. Maybe … maybe she had made it all up. What had happened was ridiculous, after all. A British guy who was dressed like the human embodiment of a can of grape soda and ordering people around <em>did</em> sound like the plot of a crazy fever dream. If she’d had a bit too much to drink … it could’ve all been made up, right? Surely, it could have been.</p><p>This was what Elise kept telling herself as the morning dragged on. It was unbearably slow, and she couldn’t keep her eyes on the balance sheets and spending reports for more than a few minutes before moving her focus to the small clock at the corner of her computer screen.</p><p>Tara would be there. Tara <em>had </em>to be there. Tara was just fine. Tara <em>had </em>to be just fine.</p><p>And at 12:42, Elise got her answer. The elevator let out a delightful ding, and Tara strode into the office, beaming, as she carried a large box of donuts. Tara appeared to be feeling much better, and had been kind enough to pick up something for the office. Although … the donuts weren’t the only thing she had in tow.</p><p>“Swanky,” Kilgrave said, his gaze drifting over the room. He had a French crueler in hand, which he gnawed at absently as he turned about to take in the full effect of large, glass windows and abstract paintings.</p><p>Elise slowly got to her feet. “Tara,” she said, as if barely able to get the word out.</p><p>“There she is!” Kilgrave said, gesturing with the donut. “Elise Stratford! Thirty-three years old, lives at 52 Elm street, both her parents are still married, has an older sister and a younger brother, and takes up baking in her spare time. In other words –”  </p><p>Kilgrave popped the remaining portion of the donut in his mouth.</p><p>“In other words,” he continued, voice muffled. “She’s obscenely ordinary and bloody boring.”</p><p>“Hey!” Penny said, curly black hair bobbing as she bound to her feet. “Watch your mouth!”</p><p>“Shut it!” Kilgrave said. Penny’s mouth snapped closed. Murmurs spread through the office like wildfire, the word “security” being thrown about more than once.</p><p>“Everyone is going to sit down, shut up, and put their heads on their desks like they’re in grade school, yeah?” Kilgrave said. A chorus of chairs rolling and feet shuffling filled the wide room for a moment before everyone grew still. Tara, who had previously been standing at Kilgrave’s side, had taken a short stroll into the office kitchen before placing her head down on the counter. The awkward stoop caused her legs to shake as she balanced on five-inch heels.</p><p>Elise took all of this in, mouth agape. She snapped up her work phone, pressing the panic button. Nothing happened. She tried dialing 9-1-1, but the phone remained silent.</p><p>“It would be rude for you to take a phone call,” Kilgrave said, strolling toward the kitchenette. “The two of us are about to have a conversation, and you should be giving me your undivided attention.”</p><p>Elise’s hand scrambled over her desk. She kept her eyes on Kilgrave as she reached into her purse, rummaging among the clutter for her cell.</p><p>“You,” Kilgrave said, eyeing the man seated in the cubicle adjacent to Elise’s. “The one sitting to the right of Elise. Yeah you, tubby. Find her phone and smash it to pieces.”</p><p>The portly man shot out of his seat. He made a grab for Elise’s purse, but Elise scooped the object up, holding it against her chest. To her surprise, Mr. Wen, the coworker who always had a corny pun and would never hurt a fly, punched her square in the face.</p><p>The cubicle walls wobbled as Elise used them to steady herself. She reached up to touch her cheek in shock.</p><p>Mr. Wen had obtained her purse, and was now busy dumping its contents on the floor. A reflection of the overhead lights caught a black screen. That reflection turned into speckles of light like a thousand stars as Mr. Wen’s heel came down on the object.</p><p>Elise could only watch in horror as Mr. Wen stomped his foot again, and again, and again.</p><p>“Alright, alright, go back to how you were,” Kilgrave said with a dismissive wave.</p><p>Mr. Wen froze mid-stomp. He balanced himself and returned to his seat, placing his head down.</p><p>“Now I have a decision to make, Elise,” Kilgrave said. He sauntered through the office, running his hand over the short cubicle walls. “Someone like you running around could be dangerous for me. And I’ve got a right to protect myself, don’t I? Killing you would just be an act of self-defense.”</p><p>Elise whimpered, not daring to look away as she backed up. She found the wall of her manager’s office, hands slick with sweat sliding over smooth glass.</p><p>“But on the other hand,” Kilgrave said. “This is a unique predicament, innit? Almost like fate, that I’d happen to run into someone who doesn’t listen to my commands around the time that I’m trying to win over someone else who does the same.”</p><p>Kilgrave casually draped his arms over the side of Elise’s partition. His eyes danced over the desk, before spotting a stress ball in the shape of a rubber duck. He picked the object up, squeezing it absently.</p><p>“Now, I might be able to use you,” Kilgrave said, watching the small toy reflate. “Not sure how, yet – but somehow. Maybe take you to a lab, run some tests. Perhaps if I learn how you tick, then I can use it against her.”</p><p>Elise’s breathing had grown sharp. She could see Penny, now, her friend kneeling on the floor with her head against the desk. Her eyes darted to Tara in the kitchen, and a firm resolve grew over Elise’s face.</p><p>“What would you do?” Kilgrave said, raising his eyes. “If you were me?”</p><p>Elise started running. But this time, it wasn’t away. Kilgrave’s brows knit as he watched her, the tension only subsiding when his eyes grew wide.</p><p>“Shoot h–!”</p><p>Kilgrave was tackled around the waist and shoved to the carpet, the wind leaving his lungs in a labored gasp.</p><p>“Shoo– Agh!”</p><p>His lip split, blood dribbling down his chin and leaving splotches of dark droplets over the front of his suit. Elise’s pink blouse didn’t fare much better; nor her right hand. Painted lips pulled back as Elise raised her fist.</p><p>Kilgrave grasped his assailant by the shoulders and shoved with all his might. There was a hiss as Elise rolled away, her heels causing one of her ankles to bend at an unnatural angle.</p><p>“SHOOT HER, GODDAMNIT!”</p><p>Kilgrave whipped his head around to level Tara with an enraged stare. He knew full well the box Tara had placed on the countertop was packing more than just donuts. The plan had been for her to open fire if necessary. It had been a fine plan, in theory.</p><p>But Tara had removed her head from the counter, and was staring at the scene with an expression of terror. And she wasn’t the only one – heads popped over the dividers like prairie dogs poking up out of their holes. They were all staring at Kilgrave and Elise, a few of them letting out cries of shock.</p><p>“Wha- what?” Kilgrave said, eyes wide as he looked about.</p><p>“Elise!” a man shouted, exiting one of the glass offices. His black hair was slicked back, and the air of authority in his voice conveyed he was likely a member of management. “Elise, are you alright? What’s going on?”</p><p>“I … I don’t know, he just –”</p><p>The sound of gunshots rang through the walls. Screams of panic erupted around Kilgrave as he continued to stare, dumbfounded.</p><p>“Get to the emergency exit!” the man with the black hair shouted. He helped Elise to her feet, putting himself between Kilgrave and the others as everyone scrambled toward the other end of the room.</p><p>The elevators once again let out a chipper ‘ding,’ and half a dozen men stormed through the doors. They fanned out; guns raised.</p><p>“Security opened fire, sir,” a tall, bald man in a leather jacket said. He placed himself beside Kilgrave, keeping the gun fixed on the group of business men and women scrambling to pour into the stairwell.</p><p>Kilgrave was breathing heavily as he got to his feet. He wiped his lip with a shaking hand, regarding the blood smeared across his knuckles. His gaze turned to the panicked group, his features twisting in rage.</p><p>“Mow ‘em down!” Kilgrave said. “The whole bloody lot of ‘em!”</p><p>More screams erupted from the group. Limbs flew about the writhing mass as people who had once considered themselves to be on friendly terms were now throwing punches and pulling hair in an effort to squeeze out the door.</p><p>But the shots didn’t come.</p><p>“Sir,” the man at Kilgrave’s side said, regarding his employer from the corner of his eye. “They’re unarmed, sir. Our policy concerning unarmed civilians –”</p><p>“I don’t give two bloody shits about your policy!” Kilgrave said, the veins in his neck protruding from the effort. “You lot will do as I say, and I’m telling you to shoot them all! NOW!”</p><p>A shot echoed through the room. Kilgrave crumpled to the floor, grasping his left thigh. There was an immediate barrage of gunfire, and another figure hit the floor with a loud thump. The gun that had once been in Tara’s hand slid across the tile floor of the kitchenette before bumping against the carpet. Tara was staring at it, although it was doubtful the dull, blue eyes were taking much in.</p><p>Elise made a sound that might have been Tara’s name, but it came out like a long wail as she slapped a hand over her mouth. The man with the black hair also let out a sound in shock, and unconsciously broke into a run towards the kitchenette. He, too, crumpled to the floor a moment later after a short burst of gunfire.</p><p>This time there was no sound as Elise opened her mouth. Her legs gave out, knees trembling as she collapsed to the floor. When she finally found her voice, it broke as if she’d never used it before.</p><p>“Wha-what?” Blood – Kilgrave’s blood – was smeared across her face. She regarded the man she had stolen it from in horror. “What do you want?! Just stop!”</p><p>Kilgrave let out a grunt as the man at his side tightened a makeshift tourniquet around his thigh. The attention of the other armed intruders shifted between Kilgrave and the last of the retreating office workers. Guns were still raised, but nervous glances flitted between their own group more often than not.</p><p>“Help me move him!” the bald man said. One of his companions holstered their gun, striding forward. They lifted Kilgrave between them and started making their way to the elevators.</p><p>“Sir, we’re making our retreat. The authorities have been called.”</p><p>Kilgraved muttered something under his breath.</p><p>“No, sir. We need to leave now for your safety.”</p><p>“The woman,” Kilgrave said, lids fluttering. “Take care of her.”</p><p>Normally, this order would have one or more of Kilgrave’s hired men opening fire on Elise in a heartbeat. Unlike other times, however, these men had a choice.</p><p>“Bag her,” the bald man said. Guns were holstered, and three men stepped forward.</p><p>Elise was sitting frozen in place, eyes darting between Tara and her former manager. She barely made a sound as gloved hands wrapped around her arms and hoisted her to her feet.</p>
<hr/><p>It was cold.</p><p>This was the first thing Elise noticed as her consciousness returned. Her lids fluttered open, and she found herself staring at a plain, concrete wall. A weak groan escaped her lips as she sat up.</p><p>“She’s awake,” a deep voice said.</p><p>Elise blinked, but her vision still seemed blurry. There was a man sitting across from her. He was older, with a mop of curly grey hair. He had darker skin, and for a heartbeat Elise thought it might be Penny’s father, who would greet her with a smile and a friendly smack on the back when Elise came to visit during the holidays.</p><p>But … no. This man didn’t have any laugh lines, nor was he wearing a Hawaiian shirt. He was dressed in a pressed navy suit, and watched her with the dull eyes of a dead fish.</p><p>Elise tried to put her hands in her lap, but found she could only move them a few inches before getting resistance. With a start, she discovered she was handcuffed to the table.</p><p>
  <em>Wha ...? What?</em>
</p><p>“I have a list of questions for you, Ms. Stratford,” the man across from her said. He flipped open a folder, lowering his eyes. “Explain to me in the greatest detail possible how your powers work.”</p><p>“My what?” Elise said. She looked the man up and down. Her eyes focused on the large object dangling around his neck.</p><p>“Oh!” Elise cried, relieved. She smiled, tears forming as she returned her attention to the face of the police officer. “Thank God! Oh, did you get him? Did you catch him? He –”</p><p>The declaration was cut off with a gasp as images came crashing forward. Elise’s face twisted, tears falling down her cheeks. “Oh God, Tara. Oh my God, no … Oh and Mark. They didn’t … they didn’t do anything! Oh, God … Did they … did they go to the hospital? Are they … are they for sure …?”</p><p>“Explain to me in the greatest detail possible how your powers work,” the officer repeated, deadpan.</p><p>Elise’s jaw dropped. She tried to wipe her face, but found she couldn’t reach her cheeks without doing an awkward stoop.</p><p>“What? I don’t understand,” Elise said.</p><p>“Explain to me in the greatest detail possible how your powers work.”</p><p>It was like she was talking to a robot. Or a doll. The man across from her showed no emotion, unmoving.</p><p>“Uh … um.” Elise twisted in her seat. The walls were devoid of anything except for a small camera, the door behind the officer, and a large pane of black glass at her back. It was this glass she regarded, now, having seen enough cop shows to deduce that it was two-way. “Can I … um, get an attorney, or something? I think I’m allowed to get one of those.”</p><p>“He knows where Patsy lives.”</p><p>Elise turned her head as if it took monumental effort.</p><p>
  <em>‘Patsy?’ Does he mean Penny?</em>
</p><p>“He said if you don’t answer these questions,” the officer said, tapping the folder with his pointer finger. “Then he’s going to have Patsy blow her brains out.”</p><p>Hazy images flashed before her eyes. Firm grips, stern faces – the men that grabbed her. They took her out of the office building, guiding her into the back seat of a car. She caught a glimpse of a purple suit disappearing into another large, black SUV. Then something stung her neck. She remembered her head drooping forward, and staring at the red bloodstains across her blouse before losing consciousness.</p><p>Chains rattled as Elise struggled to stand. It was fruitless, Elise only letting out frustrated grunts as she thrashed about.</p><p>“He’s right outside her door,” the officer said, seemingly unconcerned as his prisoner’s wrists began to bleed. “He told me to call him if you weren’t going to cooperate.”</p><p>The officer reached a hand into his jacket. He produced a phone, swiping his finger over the screen.</p><p>“I don’t know!” Elise said, panicking. “I don’t know what you’re asking!”</p><p>The finger froze. Dull eyes rose to meet the frantic stare. They held there, for a moment, before the phone disappeared. Elise let out a relieved sigh before collapsing back to her seat.</p><p>“Explain to me in the greatest detail possible how your powers work,” the officer said.</p><p>Strands of brown hair fell over her eyes as Elise shook her head. “I don’t know! I don’t have any powers!”</p><p>The officer sat, frozen. His eyes slowly panned to the paper before him. He stared at it, before once again reaching into his pocket. Elise started to shout in protest, but quieted down as the man produced a pen. He jotted something down.</p><p>“Are you a member of any sort of entity that –”</p><p>
  <em>“NO, NO, NO, NO, NO!”</em>
</p><p>Elise flinched. The voice booming over what must have been the speakers blared in the small room; she recognized it immediately.</p><p>
  <em>“Don’t move on to the next bloody question! You think that half-arsed excuse was the real answer?!”</em>
</p><p>A frightened whimper escaped Elise as her eyes darted about. The officer across from her cleared his throat. He struck out whatever he had previously written down with a few elegant strokes.</p><p>“Explain to me in the greatest detail possible how your powers work,” he repeated.</p><p>“I don’t have powers!” Elise said. “I don’t have, like, super strength or can fly or anything – I swear to God! I have <em>no </em>idea what you’re talking about!”</p><p><em>“Bullshit!”</em> Kilgrave’s voice spat. <em>“You have to have powers in order to not do what I say when I tell you! Now, you’re gonna tell me exactly how it works, or else I’m gonna make you watch your stupid little friend blow her brains out before I have every bloody officer in this department gun you down.”</em></p><p>A startled sound escaped Elise as she seemed unsure whether to focus on the black glass or the indifferent officer sitting at the other side of the table.</p><p>“I don’t! I don’t …”</p><p>Elise focused on the corner of the room as if it were suddenly doing something very interesting.</p><p>“Once,” Elise said, fighting for words over the terrified scramble in her head. “Someone told me one time that I was ‘special,’ or something. I … I did something, when he touched me. But I don’t know! I just thought he was crazy! I don’t know!”</p><p>Silence. The officer across from Elise was staring into the void of the black glass, frozen.</p><p><em>“So your ability doesn’t work,”</em> Kilgrave’s voice said, sounding more even, <em>“unless you touch me? On other people, I mean.”</em></p><p>“I … I don’t– maybe? Yes?” Elise said. She prayed that if she said the right thing, <em>did </em>the right thing, maybe he would let her go.</p><p>Or maybe she would wake up, and find that none of this was real.</p><p>Elise would wake up in the hospital after taking a nasty bump to the head, and Penny and Tara would be there. Tara, with her flyaways glowing like a halo from the weak sunlight coming in through the closed blinds. She would make a comment about the lovely arrangement sitting on the nightstand, and how everyone in the office had pitched in. The handwriting on the get-well card would be her manager’s –Mark’s – crisp, flowing penmanship.</p><p><em>“Move on to the next question!”</em> Kilgrave’s voice barked. The officer blinked a few times as if he had awoken from a slumber.</p><p>“Are you a member of any sort of entity that is hunting Kilgrave?”</p><p>“A what?” Elise said, her voice taking on an unnatural squeak. “No, no! What’s a Kilgrave?”</p><p>The officer scribbled down some notes. “Were your powers obtained through experimentation? Do you recall anything about a lab or its researchers?”</p><p>“I’ve never been experimented on!” Elise said, desperate. “I swear!”</p><p>The sound of a pen scratching against paper intermingled with Elise’s labored breathing.</p><p>“Are you in contact with any of the fuckwits calling themselves ‘super heroes?’”</p><p>“No!” Elise said. “I’ve only seen them on TV!”</p><p>Elise held her breath as the officer wrapped up his notes. He stood, snapping the folder closed. The officer didn’t bother to glance over as the door behind him opened and three familiar men stepped into the room.</p><p>Elise sprung to her feet. Her eyes darted about as she took in the bored expressions of the men who had stormed her office. They moved aside as something making a clacking sound came in behind them.</p><p>Kilgrave appeared in the threshold, balancing himself between two crutches. “Put your guns on her.”</p><p>The three men plus the police officer immediately put Elise in their sights. She tried to back away, crying out as her cuffed hands held her fast.</p><p>“Alright, copper,” Kilgrave said. “Gun in mouth – chop chop.”</p><p>The officer immediately did as he was told. Kilgrave glanced back to Elise.</p><p>“Anything?” he asked. “Sure you don’t want to do anything to stop him?”</p><p>Elise swallowed, looking between them. “I don’t … I don’t want him to die.”</p><p>“But you can’t stop it,” Kilgrave said, the statement just shy of being a question. “Tell the truth, now. I’ve got contingencies in place for little Patsy if anything happens to me.”</p><p>Elise fervently shook her head. Kilgrave watched her, unblinking.</p><p>“You sure ‘bout that?” he said. “Because this man here is going to die, mind. He’s going to die if you don’t do anything about it.”</p><p>The world started to spin. Elise fell back into her seat, gasping for air. “Please,” she said, squeezing her eyes closed. “Please, I don’t know. I don’t know what you want.”</p><p>Kilgraved hummed. “How unfortunate,” he said. “Well, officer, best just kill yourself, then. Oh! But, not until I’m out of the room – don’t want anything getting on the suit; gimme a tick.”</p><p>Elise raised her head in shock, catching the hem of a purple suit jacket as it rounded the corner.</p><p>The bang was deafening. The resulting scream that escaped Elise was felt more than heard. She turned her head away and fought back the urge to vomit from the sight of brain matter now coating the wall.</p><p>Someone grabbed her around the arm and yanked Elise to her feet. She was unchained from the table, the handcuffs remaining firmly around her wrists. As she was dragged from the room, Elise let out another terrified scream at the sight of the mangled body crumpled on the floor.</p><p>“God, I wish I could tell you to shut up,” Kilgrave said, slowly hobbling through the police station. All of the officers present were at their desks, heads down. None of them moved a muscle as the group squeezed through the aisles. Elise began to struggle as they neared the exit.</p><p>“Help me!” she said, voice breaking. She twisted her neck to look behind her. “Oh God, somebody help me! Please!”</p><p>“Jesus Christ,” Kilgraved said with a groan. He turned around with some effort. “Shut her up, will you?”</p><p>The guard to her right – who happened to be the tall, bald man from before – pulled off his glove. He used his free hand to pinch Elise’s face until her jaw opened and rammed the item inside. The thick leather material muffled a startled cry in protest.</p><p>“Alright, whoever’s in charge of the security video, just delete the whole thing for the day,” Kilgrave said, his tone indicating this wasn’t his first rodeo. “Once you’ve done with that, give a shout and everyone will think everything that’s happened here was a part of some new wave art performance, find it all incredibly provocative and moving, and have no desire whatsoever to try and find us. Oh, and when anyone spots the dead guy in the interrogation room, destroy the body and sanitize the space in a way that would leave behind no traces of prints or DNA.”</p><p>Kilgrave turned around. One of his guards scrambled to get ahead of him to open the door. Elise was dragged after him, digging her heels along the tile.</p><p>When they got outside, there were four SUVs waiting. Another group of men stood to the side, and they swiftly perked up as Kilgrave came into view.</p><p>“I’ll be in the first car,” Kilgrave said as he approached the group. “Put her in the second. She’s coming with us, but keep her at least six meters away from me at all times. I want a guard on her every bloody second, and you will shoot to kill if she tries to come near me.”</p><p>“Sir,” one of the men said, opening the car door.</p><p>“And you,” Kilgrave said, looking over his shoulder. “The lot of you who were with me this morning; I’m not gonna kill her, mind, but you all still didn’t follow my command. And it’s not just my word, it’s also my money you should be listening to. And if you ain’t listening to that, then I’ve got no use for you.”</p><p>Kilgrave turned, accepting assistance to get himself into the car. “New lot – come with me. You old lot – get those cars going up in flames then take ‘em out for a spin.”</p><p>The men immediately made a beeline for the cars. They opened up the trunks, pulling out large grey containers accented with red screw caps. The caps were removed and the men made quick work of dousing the car interiors with gasoline.</p><p>The pair of black SUVs belonging to the new group pulled away. Despite her better judgement, Elise looked back, watching wide-eyed as the SUVs left behind burst into flames. She watched in horror as the men from the first group opened the doors to the vehicles and got inside with the casual air of a Sunday drive. Those in the driver’s seats even seemed to be attempting to get the cars moving despite flesh melting from their bones.</p><p>The doors of the car furthest away burst open from the explosion; the other quickly following suit. Black silhouettes writhed within the twisting orange glow, but they never left their seats.</p><p>Elise was screaming; or as close as she could get, considering the glove threatening to cut off her airway. It would be impossible to say if the three silent men sharing the car didn’t care, or had been ordered not to.</p><p>Ultimately, it didn’t seem to matter.</p><p>The SUVs merged into the bustling mid-day traffic. They blended in seamlessly – no one would ever have a reason to think they had anything to do with the fiasco at the police station.</p><p>Unless, of course, they were looking.</p><p><em>Really </em>looking.</p><p>But only someone with a keen eye and a sense of Kilgrave’s handiwork would be able to put the pieces together. A certain PI would get to that, sometime later. She would be investigating the reappearance of someone she had prayed to be dead, and the disappearance of a woman who she was hell-bent on saving from that monster’s grasp.</p><p>Unfortunately, she would be too late.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Comments and constructive criticism are always welcome!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was a high-end apartment she was holed up in.</p><p>Probably.</p><p>Elise was only going off what little she could take in during her trips to the bathroom. Those were the only times she was allowed to leave her bedroom.</p><p>Her bedroom, which wasn’t really a bedroom.</p><p>It had been a home office, before, which now sported a cluster of couch cushions and blankets arranged like an oversized bird’s nest in the middle of the floor. This is where Elise spent most of her time, curled up, sobbing. She had resigned herself to this after spending a few weeks trying to get the guard in her room to engage her in conversation. When that went nowhere, she pleaded for him to at least bring her a book, or even a crossword. <em>Anything. </em></p><p>But the guard ignored her pleas as if she were a mere figment of his imagination. No, actually – that would probably garner her at least <em>some </em>attention. No, he ignored her as if he had been compelled by a force telling him that speaking to Elise was the absolute <em>last </em>thing he wanted to do. Or, perhaps it would be the absolute last thing he would <em>ever </em>do, if he did.</p><p>At the very least, the man didn’t seem to mind as Elise rummaged through the room. There was nothing that would help her escape, to her dismay. The room had been ransacked prior to her occupation; anything with a sharp surface or the ability to connect to the internet being removed. But, she did happen to come across a mechanical pencil underneath the desk. Either because it passed inspection, or because some loophole concerning the guard ignoring her, she was allowed to keep it.</p><p>The first thing Elise did was, obviously, write a note detailing her being held against her will. This note had been folded up into a small square, and kept tucked firmly within her bra. On the off chance that she could ever sneak it out through a window or a trip outside the apartment, she needed to be ready.</p><p>Otherwise, Elise had a decent accumulation of documents concerning the New York real estate market with perfectly good blank sheets on the other side. She would use these sheets to draw, running the pencil as lightly over the page as she could in order to prolong her supply of lead. Her drawing skills were abysmal, and most of what she produced were pictures of horses and flowers and trees with a skill level that wouldn’t impress a third grader. When she grew tired of her shoddy pictures staring back at her, she’d fold the paper up into a slightly more appealing paper crane. It was the only piece of origami she remembered how to do, and she prided herself in being able to make the kind where the little wings flapped when you pull the tail. She was even delusional enough, once, to try to share this tidbit of excitement with her guard. She received nothing but a blank stare for the trouble.</p><p>She’d been visited by a doctor a few weeks back. He didn’t speak much – only taking a few vials of her blood before disappearing. Like her guard, he had the same zoned-out, glossy look to his eyes to indicate he was only acting in a way closer to instinct than higher thought processing. Elise had thought, for a fleeting moment, that she may be able to give him her note. That hope lasted for approximately three seconds before she got a good look at the man.</p><p>Hope was really starting to hurt.</p><p>Elise never saw Kilgrave, only heard him. The sound of his crutches thumping about were easy enough to pick out. She surmised his room must’ve been somewhere above hers, considering how often he was upstairs. He would also listen to TV, quite loudly, for hours each day. They were sporting events, much of the time; if Elise really strained her ears, she could piece together the play-by-play of the match. Soccer bored her to tears, but it was better than nothing.</p><p>One day the sound of crutches stopped. There was still a light thumping, which she guessed must’ve either been due to a cane or a brace of some sort. Elise had never been shot in the leg, so she honestly had no basis for what that recovery time was all about, but she had a hard time believing Kilgrave was out of a cast so quickly.</p><p>Whatever it was, the object seemed to give Kilgrave enough mobility to now leave the apartment. She would catch snippets of him barking orders on the way out, a few of the common words being “sight,” “room,” and “bitch.” That last one always made Elise’s face morph into a hard-set frown. She could’ve been <em>way </em>more of a pain in the ass than she currently was, and certainly didn’t deserve that level of scorn. On the days she heard Kilgrave call her a bitch, she’d spend that night staring at the ceiling with both hands flipping it off. Her guard never seemed to mind.</p><p>It was broaching on a month, to Elise’s count, when she grew brave enough to look for loopholes. Kilgrave’s demands were dangerous, because they relied not just on the command itself, but common sense. If he told the guards to only let her out to use the bathroom, she couldn’t then come back and say, <em>“but which bathroom</em><em>, though?”</em></p><p>She couldn’t convince the guards to take her to a restroom outside the apartment, or even one of the other ones <em>within </em>the apartment. They knew, through common fucking sense, exactly what Kilgrave meant. So step one turned out to be figuring out what commands Kilgrave would order them to enact. She got a lucky break one day when she happened to be using the toilet adjacent to the living room as Kilgrave was on his way out.</p><p>“Same as always – let the bitch out to use the toilet, don’t let her call anyone, touch anything she can use as a weapon, and, ah … yeah, you know.”</p><p>Elise’s knees had turned pink from the intensity of her grip as she listened. The slam of a door prompted her to release her legs and flex her fingers. She reached for the toilet paper, and started to think.</p>
<hr/><p>“I’m hungry.”</p><p>“It's not your scheduled meal time,” her guard said, guiding Elise from the bathroom.</p><p>“Am I not allowed to eat outside my scheduled meal times?”</p><p>The guard’s gait came to a halt. Elise couldn’t see his face, which was unfortunate, since she would’ve liked to see it do something other than aloof disinterest, for a change.</p><p>“It was not <em>implied, </em>but –”</p><p>“The chef isn’t here?”</p><p>“No,” her guard said, the word spilling out as if it stuck rather reluctantly to his tongue. “He’s here. But –”</p><p>“Would asking him to feed me go against an order?” Elise said, direct. The silence that followed was so long, Elise worried that she had blown her shot. But her guard slowly turned to face her.</p><p>“I’ll have him make you something. You just stay quiet, and don’t move unless I tell you to.”</p><p>“Sure,” Elise said. She followed dutifully as her guard guided her by the wrist. He had to take her with him because, as she had begun to surmise, he was the only one who stayed behind inside the apartment when Kilgrave went out. And the chef, albeit also under Kilgrave’s control, wasn’t allowed to touch any knives without supervision from one of the guards.</p><p>Elise’s heart was practically beating out of her chest as she set foot into the living room. She had seen it before, briefly, when she had first been brought in almost a month ago. She had been far too frazzled to take much of it in back then, but she now drunk the scene in as if she had never before witnessed anything of such beauty.</p><p>The open-air layout was indeed glamorous, accented with tall glass windows and sleek mahogany furniture that gleamed in the abundant sunlight. There were plants, too, which Elise wasn’t expecting. The house plants were huge – two trees in one of the corners practically as large as the ones lining the sidewalks.</p><p>She wondered who looked after them. There was no question that Kilgrave wasn’t the one, but she pondered if he asked someone to do it, or if one of the guards took it upon themselves to keep the poor things from withering away. She wondered how nice it would be if there was anyone in the household who would show her the same courtesy.</p><p>“Dunno,” the guard’s voice said, drawing Elise back to the situation at hand.</p><p>“Just make her a PB&amp;J, or something.”</p><p>The chef, who Elise liked to refer to as Ramone, scoffed. She didn’t know his real name, and had a feeling he couldn’t tell her if he wanted to. But she was pretty sure his name started with an R, so Ramone it was.</p><p>“Do you honestly believe I have the materials here to make a <em>PB&amp;J?” </em>Ramone asked, voice dripping in contempt. “Kilgrave would have me stab myself in the eye the second I’d even <em>suggest </em>such a thing.”</p><p>“Watch what you say,” the guard said, eyes momentarily flicking to Elise.</p><p>“He would tell me that exact same thing, and he’d agree,” Ramone said. He turned to pluck a red-and-white striped apron from the wall, then tied it around his waist. “We have some leftover mutton from last night – I’ll make her something.”</p><p>If nothing else, Elise was well fed. She figured money wasn’t a problem for a man like Kilgrave, and perhaps it never even crossed his mind to go out of his way making sure the chef prepared subpar offerings for the prisoner. Thusly, Elise found herself dining on all the same cuisine as her captor. The irony of eating meals prepared by a chef likely plucked from a Michelin star restaurant, while sitting on the floor surrounded by grungy blankets, would’ve made her laugh if she didn’t always feel so much like crying.</p><p>Elise took a seat at the long bar separating the kitchen from the living room, and watched with the fascination of someone who never got to watch <em>anything </em>anymore as the chef prepared her meal. He sliced onions, grated cheese, and chopped parsley using the sort of efficiency she’d previously only seen on TV. With the addition of a hot pan, some oil, two slices of bread, and the leftover lamb, Elise found a rather upscale patty-melt awaiting her without much delay.</p><p>“Alright, back to the room,” her guard said.</p><p>“The chef is still cleaning up,” Elise said, fighting to keep the waiver from her voice.</p><p>She could tell the statement left the wheels in her guard’s head spinning – the chef was, <em>technically, </em>still handling a knife, which he was never supposed to do without supervision, from the tidbits she’d overheard.</p><p>“Don’t worry, I’ll go as fast as I can,” Ramone said, with the air of someone very much so intending to take their sweet-ass time. A wry smile touched his lips, although he didn’t dare to look in Elise’s direction.</p><p>“Thank you,” Elise said, voice soft. “For the sandwich,” she quickly added.</p><p>There probably wasn’t a chef in history who was seemingly as meticulous about thoroughly cleaning each and every surface of his workspace as Ramone. The cutting board took him nearly twenty minutes alone, which he chalked up to “e-coli” and “salmonella” and a few other scary-sounding words.</p><p>Elise’s guard was looking downright jumpy roughly thirty minutes after Elise had started picking at her sandwich. The atmosphere of being able to sit in the sunlight, and look outside a window that hadn’t methodically been boarded up was intoxicating; her food was nearly forgotten entirely as Elise simply stared out over the skyscrapers and the few large trees she could spot from central park. The experience had been the most relaxed she had felt in weeks.</p><p>Until the front door opened.</p><p>The three kitchen occupants froze. Kilgrave strolled in, fiddling with a cane that was likely now being used more for show than necessity. The thought that he merely used it around the house as a means to annoy her drifted across Elise’s mind, and she certainly wouldn’t put it past him.</p><p>“Well, I know the lab said –”</p><p>Kilgrave’s statement fell away. The guard who had opened the door for him quickly reached to his side and produced a pistol. Elise’s hands immediately flew into the air in submission.</p><p>“What the fuck?” Kilgrave said, brandishing the cane. “Why the bloody hell is she out here?!”</p><p>“She was hungry,” her guard said, his hands also in the air.</p><p>“Who gives a shit?!” Kilgrave said. He stepped forward, making the rather bold move of getting close enough to Elise that the tip of his cane reached her plate. He gave it a good shove, the plate and what was left of the sandwich slamming against the floor with an impressive crash.</p><p>“Sir,” the guard by the door said, keeping his gun raised. “You told us that if she were to come within –”</p><p>“Blah blah blah, shut up,” Kilgrave said. The guard immediately did just that. Four additional men had come in behind him, all of which watched tentatively as their employer casually leaned on his cane.</p><p>Kilgrave hit Elise with a sunny expression. Something must’ve happened to make him cocky enough to get so close she could practically reach out. Not that it would matter, really. She had little doubt the men in his employment wouldn’t shoot her if released from Kilgrave’s influence. It had been different, when she was just a civilian. Now she was his prisoner, his <em>property, </em>which made things less complicated. Perhaps that was the reason Kilgrave was regarding her that way…but she doubted it.</p><p>“Your results came back promising,” Kilgrave said, as if giving her a genuine compliment. “They said they’re getting close to figuring out what makes your little gift work. And then…”</p><p>Kilgrave swung the cane dramatically through the air. “And <em>then, </em>they can reverse it – figure out a way to make my special ability even more effective. Who knew you’d be so handy? Well, I did, I suppose. A round of applause for my forward thinking!”</p><p>Guns clattered to the floor as hands came together in an ovation. Kilgrave took in the warm reception, bowing. Elise had joined in, more out of trepidation than anything else.</p><p>“You know what?” Kilgrave said, turning back to her. “The rest of the help gets to watch me dine, so perhaps I should start bringing you into the fold. That would only be fair, wouldn’t it?”</p><p>
  <em>The help?</em>
</p><p>Elise did everything in her power to keep a neutral expression. If it meant she’d be able to see more than just her room and the bathroom on a daily basis, Kilgrave could call her a baboon, for all she cared.</p><p>They continued to regard one another; Kilgrave absently fiddling with the cane in his hands as his patience grew thin. "Well?" he said. "Don't you have anything to say?"</p><p>Elise leaned away in trepidation. "Um ... thank you."</p><p>"Ah! There's a good girl. Now, get cleaned up.” Kilgrave waved her away. When Elise didn’t move, he shook his head – it was still taking him some getting used to.</p><p>“<em>Take her </em>to get cleaned up,” Kilgrave said, now regarding the man at her side. The guard dutifully grasped Elise’s elbow, guiding her from the seat toward the hallway.</p><p>“And don’t forget to break one finger for every minute she’s in there – I haven’t forgotten you allowing her out here without my permission.”</p><p>Elise felt the hand gripping her shake. She looked up to see a squared jaw tense.</p><p>“Sir,” was all the man said.</p>
<hr/><p>Her guard had six broken fingers when Elise ran out of the bathroom, a towel barely covering her naked body and her hair creating a puddle on the hardwood floor. At the sight of her, the man let out a sound between a sigh and whimper, before using the hand that only had one broken finger to guide her back to her room.</p><p>Elise was shown in, the door closing behind her. This was new. Normally, a guard would take a place standing vigilantly in the corner save for the times they’d pop out to use the restroom, or swap out every twelve hours.</p><p>The absence of Elise’s own body odor was also an acute contrast; Elise made a face when she noticed the sharp musk lingering in the air. This had been the first time she had been allowed to shower since she had been there, and it showed.</p><p>What was also quite notable was the haphazard pile of items now piled on her nest (she refused to call it a bed on pure principle).</p><p>Clothes, brushes, shoes, an ornate jewelry box, and a number of small zippered bags lay strewn about. Elise got to her knees, delicately picking through the items. They were nice – much nicer than anything she could afford for herself. She had been making over six figures at the accounting firm, too, which was saying a lot for the quality of the items sliding through her fingers. These were the type of things that someone who <em>actually </em>lived in a penthouse like this wore. Someone who –</p><p>Elise’s blood ran cold.</p><p>
  <em>Who did these belong to?</em>
</p><p>The name on all the paperwork Elise had come across in the small office, stamped in gold-leaf in the upper left-hand corner of the crisp pages, had been Helen Tanner. Helen Tanner, who presumably was quite successful in the New York real estate market. Helen Tanner, who Elise had seen neither hide nor hair of during her entire month stay. Helen Tanner, who Elise prayed had simply been told to hand over the keys, then walk away.</p><p>Elise bent her head, giving a silent prayer.</p>
<hr/><p>Elise always found putting on make-up cathartic: brushing, blending, mixing colors. It was like painting, but in a way she felt she actually possessed some skill. She could glue on false lashes in an afterthought, and use bronzer to make her cheekbones look sharp enough to cut diamond. She would purse her lips, taking selfies then sending them to Penny and Tara. Penny would laugh, calling her ridiculous. Tara would say something kind, complimenting her cut-crease or the shape of her brows.</p><p>Tara had always been kind.</p><p>
  <em>Don’t cry. You’ll ruin your foundation if you cry.</em>
</p><p>Helen had been taller than Elise, so the dresses fell somewhat awkwardly, giving her the appearance of a child playing dress-up with big sister’s clothes. Their skin tones were also different, but Elise had come across a few foundations she was able to blend into a close-enough shade. It was like conducting a science experiment, her brain latching on to the stimulation of actually having something to <em>think </em>about that wasn’t self-pity.</p><p>Wet hair was rolled into a high bun, the look finished with a pair of dangling earrings made up with a cascade of diamonds. Ironically, the gems were fake. Perhaps Helen drew the line at expensive jewelry, or maybe they were sentimental in some way. The fact that they were fake, though, was the reason Elise had chosen them. She liked the idea of something secretly inauthentic dangling in front of Kilgrave’s face.</p><p>Elise had just finished sliding the earrings on when her door swung open (no one knocked – they never did). It was a different guard, this time – the other presumably splinting his fingers elsewhere. This theory was confirmed when Elise stepped into the living room and spotted only four guards waiting for them, lined up with their backs to the window. Ramone was there, too, along with a cleaning lady Elise didn’t recognize.</p><p>Elise’s heart sank as she took her place between two of the guards, back against the glass. She’d been hoping to be able to get a better glimpse out the window. The tall windows still stretched around the open-plan apartment, but the kitchen and adjoining hallway was set against a solid grey wall which Elise couldn’t find nearly as interesting to look at.</p><p>The long dining room table was decked out with a number of dishes. Duck was on the menu, it seemed, with sides ranging from some sort of vegetable puree to Yorkshire puddings. There was even an entire tart topped with glistening berries, a slice of which having already been removed and arranged on a small plate with some compote. The fact that Ramone had whipped everything up in a few short hours was remarkable; she had a feeling the man was barely staying on his feet.</p><p>Swift footsteps could be heard from the upstairs landing. Elise raised her eyes, tracking the sound as it approached the stairs at the far end. The stairs were made out of a clear material – probably a thick plastic – and she could easily spot oxfords and the hem of a black set of trousers as a figure descended.</p><p>“Alright, Anton, let’s hope today’s faire is better than yesterday’s lamb fiasco,” Kilgrave said, adjusting the cuff of his jacket.</p><p>
  <em>Anton? Hmm ... I liked Ramone better.</em>
</p><p>Kilgrave gave the group a passing glance. He stopped in his tracks, his eyes locking on Elise. She kept her expression neutral, allowing a sliver of defiance to come through as she lifted her chin.</p><p>“Well, well, look at you,” he said. The oversized navy dress spilling over her shoulders seemed juvenile, but Elise closed the gap with a pair of nude heels and expertly painted red lips. Kilgrave had a thing for red lips.</p><p>“Got yourself all gussied up to see me, eh?” Kilgrave said with a smirk. He strode toward her, hands in pockets. Elise didn’t dare to move, having no doubt that either of the men at her side would body-slam her through the window if she tried.</p><p>“I’m sure you’d look even prettier if you smiled,” Kilgraved said, his voice taking on a gentle tone. “Go on, then.”</p><p>The corner of Elise’s mouth twitched. She pulled the corner of her lips up, slightly.</p><p>“A genuine smile,” Kilgrave said – demanded. Elise bared her teeth – the display coming off as a nervous grimace.</p><p>Kilgrave frowned. He studied her features as if she were a new species of dung beetle no one had seen before. There was disgust, but also a touch of fascination behind the gesture.</p><p>“It would be so much easier for you, if you’d listen,” he said, as if stating a fact. “You’re motivated by fear. <em>I </em>would motivate you by telling you what you really wanted. You would <em>want </em>to smile, which is a hell of a lot easier than having to pretend, innit?”</p><p>Elise’s smile fell away. She stared back at him, unmoving.</p><p>“What, are you a bloody mannequin?” Kilgrave said, his patience wearing thin. “Say something, goddamnit.”</p><p>If it were possible for Elise to have a thousand thoughts and none at all at the same time, it was happening now. Scenarios flew through her mind – some where she spat in his face, others where she made a run for it, another where she punched him in the nose.</p><p>And she was <em>so close </em>now. If she just touched him, his hold on the people around her would break. But …</p><p>No, that didn’t matter. They’d be slower, maybe, but they’d still obey. Just like her, who didn’t need mind control to do what Kilgrave wanted; fear was motivation enough.</p><p>“I like your tie.”</p><p>Eyebrows rose in surprise. Kilgrave glanced down, noting the purple tie accented with a repeating pattern of deep green triangles. He lifted a hand to run his fingers over the material.</p><p>“It’s designer,” he said. “Sure you’ve never heard of it.”</p><p>“Try me.”</p><p>Kilgrave’s eyes darted back to her face, watching her in apprehension. “Where do you think it’s from?”</p><p>“Lacroix,” Elise said.</p><p>Kilgrave seemed to find this amusing. He tucked his hands behind his back, grinning at her like an impish child. “And why do you say that?”</p><p>“The pattern,” Elise said. “And the stitching. I’ve seen something like it when I went to their outlet store.”</p><p><em>“You </em>go shopping at Lacroix?” Kilgrave asked, dubious.</p><p>“Yes,” Elise said.</p><p>She wasn’t going to tell him that she had been there looking for a Christmas gift for her manager. She didn’t think it was worth mentioning the way Mark’s eyes had lit up and the grateful smile he’d given her from across his desk; the way not only his eyes, but his hands, had danced over her later at the same desk sometime after everyone had left. The two of them hooking up wasn’t as scandalous as him being married, but he was still her boss, which set a certain precedent. A certain precedent that no longer mattered in the worst way possible because of the man standing before her. When Elise ever thought of Mark, now, she could only picture the way his body crumpled like a puppet who's string had been cut on the day Kilgrave's men gunned him down.</p><p>Kilgrave was rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, seemingly struggling to make a decision. The act was probably fairly new to him, which meant he needed more time than most to dwell on which path he should choose: what it was he needed to say to get someone to actually start a conversation with him out of their own free will. Based on the look on his face, it was unbearably frustrating.</p><p>“Well, you’re wrong,” he said. “It’s Stefano Ricci – figured you wouldn’t know that.”</p><p>“I like Lacroix better,” Elise said. The statement resulted in Kilgrave’s nostrils flaring.</p><p>
  <em>Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.</em>
</p><p>Elise’s knees went weak, and she figured that his enraged stare was very well going to be the last thing she would see.</p><p>“Ricci can be too flashy,” she added, the words tumbling out in a panic. “I like the more subdued patterns. I think the ties with the diamonds woven in can be a little much – it takes away from the balance of the suit.”</p><p>Elise obediently parroted back the sales pitch the Lacroix saleswoman had given her months ago. She amazed herself at being able to recall it – adrenaline was a hell of a drug.</p><p>Slowly, Kilgrave’s features relaxed. He once again looked Elise up and down as if she were a member of a different species. In a way, she was.</p><p>“It’s Lacroix,” Kilgrave said. “The tie. <em>My </em>tie – it’s Lacroix.”</p><p>“OK,” Elise said, deciding that questioning his reasoning behind lying would likely mean a bullet through the head. The two of them continued to stare at each other, both feeling a level of fear that neither of them wanted to voice.</p><p>Kilgrave turned and made his way to the table. He sat down with a heavy thud, gave Elise another wary glance, then began to eat. There was an offhand remark about his dinner being cold, but the complaint withered away through mouthfuls of duck. He was eating quickly – although it was hard to say if it was out of hunger or a desire to exit the situation in the swiftest manner possible without making it seem obvious.</p><p>Kilgrave reached for the small plate with the tart, setting it before him. He paused, tapping a fork against the porcelain in a maddening manner as if the tart was some great puzzle he was trying to untangle.</p><p>“Do you watch football?” he asked. Elise met his gaze, answering him truthfully.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>Kilgrave grunted, taking a sip of wine.</p><p>“Colombia beat Sweden last week four to one,” Elise said, as if reading the information from a prompter. The wine was drawn away from parted lips in shock.</p><p>“How the bloody hell do you know that?”</p><p>“I can hear it,” Elise said. “Through the walls.”</p><p><em>I hope you go deaf; </em>she didn’t add aloud.</p><p>Kilgrave watched her, swirling his wine in contemplation. Another awkwardly long amount of time passed before he spoke again. “Any thoughts?”</p><p>Elise shrugged. “Miguel-something’s name gets thrown around a lot. I figured he’s good.”</p><p>“He is good,” Kilgrave said, leaning back in his seat. “Best forward on the team. I figure they’ve got a shot at the world cup this year.”</p><p>Elise wasn’t sure how to respond, so she settled for keeping a neutral expression.</p><p>“Have you ever been to Milan?” he asked.</p><p>
  <em>What the fuck?</em>
</p><p>Elise’s confusion must’ve shown on her face, since the swirling wine slowed to a stop.</p><p>“Venice,” Elise said, before there was a chance for his temperament to change. “I’ve been to Venice, once, when I was twenty.”</p><p>Kilgrave scoffed, taking another slow sip of wine. “Too <em>kitschy, </em>Venice,” he said, drawing the glass away. “You agree, of course.”</p><p>“No,” Elise said. “I liked Venice.”</p><p>
  <em>Shit.</em>
</p><p>She really, <em>really </em>needed to start thinking more before spewing whatever came to mind. Kilgrave had been looking for her to concur; to anyone else, they would’ve come to the conclusion wholeheartedly that Venice was, in fact, nothing more than a tacky tourist destination. Her hopes of ever seeing anything more than the inside of her room trickled through metaphorical fingers like grains of sand.</p><p>But Kilgrave was watching her as if she were doing something far more interesting than standing stiff as a board. He drummed his fingers along the table, the sound of their dull thuds being the only thing to break the silence.</p><p>“Tell me, then, about Venice,” he said. “Then I’ll tell you why it’s a complete shithole.”</p><p>Kilgrave raised a finger, beckoning her over. Elise swallowed, suddenly aware of how dry her throat was. Her heart pounding in her chest, she took a step forward. She didn’t dare get too close – stopping at least 10 feet from the table.</p><p>“Well I’m not gonna have a chinwag with you like that, you git,” he said, gesturing toward the other end of the able. “Sit over there.”</p><p>Elise pulled out a chair, surprised at how heavy it was. She took a seat, cumbersomely doing her best, and still failing, to pull the chair all the way in without it scraping against the hardwood floor.</p><p>“Oh, God,” Kilgrave said with a tired groan. “Pitiful. One of you lot help her – Now!”</p><p>A guard scrambled forward to grasp the back of her seat. He pushed it in, Elise trying not to make a sound when the guard used a bit too much force and her rib cage was roughly pushed against the table.</p><p>“And get her a plate,” Kilgrave said with a lazy wave. “Just a bit of everything. Hurry up!”</p><p>The man couldn’t immediately locate an empty plate, prompting him to scuttle into the kitchen to fetch one. Kilgrave watched the guard with an impatient glare as he came running back. A few seconds later, Elise found a plate of food before her that was in dangerous peril of overflowing.</p><p>“You raised in a barn?” Kilgrave asked, staring down the guard. “Expect her to eat all that with her hands, do you?”</p><p>“No, Sir,” the guard said.</p><p>“Then get her a bloody fork, you donkey!”</p><p>This statement was accented with a clamoring of china as Kilgrave’s fist hit the table. Elise watched the display, dumbfounded. Kilgrave seemed to notice, his face morphing into a scowl.</p><p>“Tell me why you’re giving me that look.”</p><p>Elise didn’t immediately answer. She was leveled with a shaking finger as if she were a criminal being pointed out by a defendant.</p><p>“Tell me,” Kilgrave said, his voice a low hiss, “why you’re giving me … that look.”</p><p>“It’s a fork,” Elise blurted out. Kilgrave didn’t move, seemingly still waiting for more explanation.</p><p>‘It’s …” Elise said, her voice trailing off. “It’s just a fork.”</p><p>Kilgrave slammed his palm on the table. Elise flinched, but kept her eyes locked with his.</p><p>“Well then,” Kilgrave said. “If it’s <em>‘just a fork,’ </em>then I guess you wouldn’t give two shits about eating with your hands like a bloody animal.”</p><p>Elise didn’t answer. The guard from earlier was standing off to the side, his eyes darting between Kilgrave and the object in his hand.</p><p>“Put that thing back,” Kilgrave said. The man jumped, returning the fork to the utensil drawer.</p><p>“You can just eat like a bloody savage, since that’s apparently your standards.”</p><p>
  <em>Asshole.</em>
</p><p>Elise picked up a slice of tart, cramming it in her mouth. She chewed, not bothering to keep her lips together. She figured her time on this mortal realm was growing quite limited, at this point, and she may as well enjoy herself in the last few moments she had left.</p><p>“You disgusting –!” Kilgrave said. “Close your mouth!”</p><p>Elise complied, momentarily, as she swallowed. She scooped up some sort of orange puree, plopping it on her tongue. She wiped what was left clinging to her fingers over the white table cloth.</p><p>
  <em>Sorry, mom. I know you’d give me hell for dying in the dumbest way possible. Dad, I think you would laugh. Not at me, but with me. And Penny … shit, I’m sorry.</em>
</p><p>Kilgrave sprang to his feet, his chair groaning across the floor. He bared his teeth, a portion of his slicked-back hair falling askew.</p><p>“There’s no reason!” he said. “There’s no reason for me to keep you alive! I’ve got plenty of blood samples! The only reason I didn’t kill you already is because I didn’t give a shit whether you lived or died! That’s how little you matter!”</p><p>Elise’s brain was on fire; every warning bell imaginable was going off in her head. But whether it was the adrenaline, or her reaching a certain level of acceptance, she appeared cool as a cucumber. She reached for the only thing on the table she could grab beside her plate – the bottle of wine. She lifted the bottle to her lips, wine dribbling down her chin as she took a sip.</p><p>“YOU FUCKING SHIT!” Kilgrave said. He shoved the table, Elise letting out a gasp as it knocked against her. Kilgrave seemed to take pleasure in this, a satisfied smile stretching over his face.</p><p>“You got wine on my dress,” Elise said, as if the spill had been caused by an absent-minded toddler. The chair was scooched back with great effort before Elise got to her feet. She glanced about, pondering what the closest thing was to her that she could ruin without taking a step. The increasingly not-pristine tablecloth came to mind, and she quickly upturned the bottle.</p><p>“Stop that!” Kilgrave said. “Do you know what that bloody is?!”</p><p>“Expensive,” Elise said, making an accurate assumption.</p><p>“That wine is worth way more than your sodding life!” Kilgrave said.</p><p>Elise watched the dark liquid churn, blooming like a bloodstain over the white surface. She wondered if that’s what her insides were going to look like. That’s what it had been like for Mark, when his blood was seeping into the office carpet, anyway.</p><p>She fought against every instinct of self-preservation to look up as footsteps stomped toward her. Elise waited for the command – to fire, to snap her neck, to gut her like a fish. But instead, the bottle was roughly torn from her hand. She looked up to see Kilgrave staring at her face-to-face. She watched, stunned, wondering why he would get so close.</p><p>“You remind me of her,” Kilgrave said, sounding angry over the fact. “Snarky little shit. She wouldn’t pour out good wine, though.”</p><p>The wine bottle, now upright, hit the table with a thump. Kilgrave took another step forward, Elise recoiling.</p><p>“Tell me,” Kilgrave said, his voice hoarse as he whispered in her ear. “What are you thinking, when I’m close to you like this?”</p><p>Elise was already six feet under, she may as well keep digging.</p><p>“That you’re crazy,” she said. Kilgrave didn’t answer right away, but she caught him smirk out of the corner of her eye.</p><p>“You’re practice,” he said, sounding amused. “I’m still in control, because no matter what, these blokes will blow your fucking head off whether I’m controlling them or not. It’s a little like a roller coaster, innit? Your body thinks it’s in danger, but you’re perfectly safe.”</p><p>Kilgrave reached up as if to stroke her face, or maybe pull her hair loose. But he stopped short, his hand hovering over her shoulder. There was still fear, there, despite his claim. Kilgrave didn’t trust, and rightly so. He had faith in his hired guns, but not enough to be careless.</p><p>“You’re the training wheels, petal,” Kilgrave said, lowering his hand. “Once I’m through with you, I’ll be ready to ride the big-boy bike. I just need a little more practice – I’m sure it won’t take long.”</p><p><em>What the hell is that metaphor? </em>Elise thought. She watched Kilgrave in trepidation as he backed away, regarding her with a charming smile.</p><p>“Let’s do brunch,” he said, shooting her a wink. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned toward the stairs. “If this mess isn’t cleaned up in ten minutes, all of you take a stroll over the balcony.”</p>
<hr/><p>Kilgrave stared into the night, martini in hand. He leaned against the railing lining the rooftop veranda as he occasionally glanced at his watch. When ten minutes passed, and no one came tumbling out and leaping sixty-seven stories to the street below, he sighed in relief. In truth, the order had been a bluff; it would be a pain in the ass to give the security company a ring this time of night.</p><p>“They’re getting efficient,” he mused. The last chef had accidentally dropped a salmon steak on the floor while transferring it to a plate. Kilgrave had upturned the entire table, demanding that his staff clean the whole thing up in fifteen minutes or take a walk.</p><p>That had been months ago, and they might all still be walking, for all he cared. He took a sip of his martini and allowed his mind to wander.</p><p>Like they did most nights when he was alone, Kilgrave’s thoughts turned to Jessica. He knew she was thinking of him – her subconscious churning in guilt over what she had done. She was ashamed, he was certain; even if she wouldn’t admit it. There was no doubt that she loved him – he had given her everything – <em>everything </em><em>–</em> she ever wanted; so, why wouldn’t she?</p><p>Even so, he had to do things right. He was going to court her properly, this time around. No mind control, and no telling her to make decisions that weren’t her own (not that he could anymore, at any rate).</p><p>No, this time Jessica would slip into that low back dress he liked not because he asked her to, but because she knew how it made him feel. She would press her pale skin against his, making his knees go weak as she nibbled his lip on her own accord. She would look up at him – eyes shining a deep green with streaks of gold – and smile.</p><p>There had been a bit of a setback, being shot in the leg and all, but things were soon going to get back on track. The lab he was working with had a serum that expedited the healing process, for one. Now he was free to do the easy task of finding the money needed to obtain Jessica’s childhood home. He’d have it fully furnished within a few weeks – multiple storage units were already filled to the brim with perfect replicas of most of the furniture, décor, and even personal belongings such as posters and CDs. It would be absolutely perfect, and Jessica would love it. Jessica would love <em>him. </em></p><p>But Kilgrave wasn’t naive. He had spies everywhere, including a certain psychiatrist who met with Jessica following Kilgrave’s incident with the bus crash. He had learned some rather unpleasant things, including the fact that Jessica dealt with the shock of believing him to be dead by twisting her love into hatred. She would snap his neck the moment she laid her hands on him, from what he’d gathered.</p><p>It was heartbreaking to see Jessica’s psyche had been so horrendously warped, but the trauma had happened, and the damage was done. Like a spouse reminding their partner with dementia that the two of them were meant to be, Kilgrave had a lot of work to do rebuilding that foundation of love. The house would be a good start, but he was at a loss of where to go from there. He needed to figure out what to do, what to say, what to <em>think, </em>to get Jessica to truly love him.</p><p>Enter Elise.</p><p>If Jessica Jones was the top-dollar action figure outfitted with limited edition ripped jeans and a bottle of whisky, then Elise was the bargain-bin knockoff with the ill-fitting shoes and foam rubber duck.</p><p>Kilgrave would focus on their similarities and how to manipulate them: their concern for others, their defiant nature, their holier-than-thou attitudes toward what was “right” and “wrong.” There were ways to get around all these, surely, and Kilgrave would find them. He was excellent with people, after all.</p><p>Plus, Elise would be easy. She was demurer in nature – likely a byproduct of being incapable of crushing his skull with one hand – and lacked Jessica’s biting wit and affinity for name-calling. If she acted out, he could kill a friend or family member, and have plenty to spare left dangling overhead.</p><p>And he knew what women wanted – the dresses, the vacation villas, the high-end cuisine. Kilgrave would need to get creative, keeping her cooped up in the penthouse all the time, but he had no doubt in his skills. Elise would be eating out of his hand within a week, and he’d have the experience under his belt to sweep Jessica Jones off her feet.</p><p>Kilgrave didn’t consider what he would do with Elise, after that. He didn’t much care.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>'Not Dying: 101’</em>
</p><p>Elise sat hunched over the desk as she mimed writing the words – pencil hovering over the blank sheet since she didn’t dare put anything down. She was probably toeing the line going through the motions, but due to an ever-present companion standing in the corner who would undoubtedly blab, Elise had to get by somehow.</p><p>
  <em>‘End Goal: Give Kilgrave a reason to not want me dead.’</em>
</p><p>She was already at a disadvantage right out the gate. As long as she had the stupid “gift” that had gotten her into this mess, she was a threat. Sure, being bossed around by that dick-nugget would’ve been a pain, but if she had just hung up his stupid fucking coat back then instead of speaking up like a moron, none of this would have happened.</p><p>A weary sound escaped her lips. Elise rubbed her eyes, trying to get back on track.</p><p>She had learned that there was at least one other person who could defy Kilgrave’s will. The woman he kept talking about; the one he seemingly wanted to win over.</p><p>
  <em>‘To help…or not to help.’</em>
</p><p>Helping Kilgrave woo this woman may leave him grateful. On the other hand, it may leave her without a purpose, which was exceedingly dangerous. But if she was too defiant, and didn’t play along, then she would also lose her usefulness and probably find herself tied to some cinder blocks at the bottom of the bay. She needed a ploy; a hook. </p><p>Elise’s hand frantically flew through the air.</p><p>
  <em>‘How good is he at detecting lies?’</em>
</p><p>It was a skill Kilgrave would never had a use for, right? It would be unpolished – unfinished. <em>He </em>lied all the time, clearly. She remembered the story he wove together at the police station about the entire affair being performance art; excuses like that were probably commonplace for him. But when did he ever need to really pay attention to see if a person was being sincere? All he had to do was simply demand the truth, and he’d get exactly what he wanted.</p><p>
  <em>“What would you do, if you were me?”</em>
</p><p>He had asked her that question, looking for a reply from one of the few people who could twist their answer to suit their own needs. One of the few people who were like<em> him. </em></p><p>
  <em>‘He’s lonely and pathetic.’</em>
</p><p>There was one thing she could offer than not even his lover could provide:</p><p>Certainty.</p><p>With romantic love, there’s always that sliver of doubt; the “what if” when it comes to staying interesting and hoping your partner’s attention isn’t going to wander. With love, you have to <em>work.</em></p><p>But a friend – a confidant – can just be. With the inevitability that the sun will rise in the East and set in the West, a best friend will be there with open arms, an open heart, and an open smile.</p><p>
  <em>‘I can fake that.’</em>
</p><p>Indeed, she could. She would have to: Elise wasn’t a fan of the idea of dying horribly. If all it took was some fake smiles and well-timed head nods to make it seem like she gave a shit about Kilgrave’s pathetic life, then she could do that. Long enough for her to figure out a way to escape, anyway.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was a picture of Elise pinned to the wall.</p>
<p>It was her graduation photo, her diploma held out for the world to see as she smiled ear-to-ear. Penny was standing beside her, one arm around Elise’s shoulders with her head thrown back in laughter. This picture had been Elise’s profile pic, for a while, and was probably where it had been pulled from. There were other documents, too; all canvasing the wall and held up with pins like you’d see in a stereotypical detective show. Ironically, the person sitting opposite from Penny was anything but stereotypical.</p>
<p>“Fuck,” the woman said, sitting back in her seat. Expressive, hazel eyes wandered about the ceiling as if she were searching for a higher entity to strangle.</p>
<p>The woman reached into a side drawer of her desk, pulling out a bottle of whisky. She yanked off the cap, brought it to her lips, but slowly pulled it back as she regarded Penny.</p>
<p>“Sorry, do you want any?” she offered.</p>
<p>“Uh … no,” Penny said, brow furrowed. The woman shrugged. She tilted her head back, slamming down half the bottle. Penny flinched when the bottle hit the desk with a loud thump.</p>
<p>“So … you, um …” Penny said, eyeing the petite woman. “I need you to find her – I need you to find Elise.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, no shit,” the woman said, scowling. “And if you really cared so goddamn much about your friend, why’d you wait so long to come to me?”</p>
<p>Penny sat back in her chair. “Excuse me? I told the police everything I knew, and I thought they’d be able to handle it!”</p>
<p>“How naive,” the woman said, taking another swig from the bottle.</p>
<p>“Look, I came to you because you’re … um …”</p>
<p><em>“Gifted,”</em> the woman said. The word “gifted” carried an off-putting weight to it – almost as she had said “retarded” or “faulty.” It was an odd term to use, considering the word’s otherwise positive association.</p>
<p>“And the man who took Elise,” Penny said, eyes widening. “Like I said, he isn’t normal. I figured you were the only one around who’d be able to stop that freak.”</p>
<p>“Fighting fire with fire, huh?” the woman said, lifting the bottle in a mock toast. “Or freak against freak; you got a real twisted sense of entertainment, lady.”</p>
<p>Penny's expression hardened. "Shut the fuck up."</p>
<p>This caused the smirk to fall from her companion’s face.</p>
<p>“Just do your fucking job," Penny said, voice rising, "and find my best friend!”</p>
<p>The woman eyed Penny as if sizing her up. What she saw must’ve been satisfactory, since she nodded and set the bottle aside. Her chest rose and fell in a deep breath and she leaned forward, fingers lacing as she placed them on the desk.</p>
<p>“I’m gonna be real with you, Penny,” the woman said, her tone taking on something more solemn. “I don’t know if Elise is still alive. I was on this case before you walked through my door, and I’ve already gathered some information that doesn’t look good. But I can tell you one thing: I’m gunning hard for the asshole that took her. I’m going to take him down, one way or another, and if Elise is still alive when I find him, then I’ll make getting her out of there my top priority. Well, after I rip Kilgrave’s face off.”</p>
<p>Penny wiped her cheeks, attempting to match the PI’s steadfast expression.</p>
<p>“The information you gave me from the restaurant was good,” the woman said, leaning back. She pulled the laptop sitting at the edge of the desk closer as her eyes wandered over the screen. “I just need you to confirm with me – one more time – about what happened at your office. Specifically, I need to know what <em>you </em>felt when Kilgrave lost his control over you.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, sure,” Penny said, growing less apprehensive as her companion took on an air of being competent. “It was like getting hit with a cold splash of water, you know? Like I’d jumped into a frozen lake and all of a sudden, I ‘woke up.’ It’s like … at the restaurant, OK? That part felt like a dream. And, like, so did everything after that. I got up the next morning, went through the motions of getting ready, and drove in to work like I always do. But then I <em>lied. </em>I lied right to Elise’s face about what happened, and I was just spouting back everything that Kilgrave guy told me to say. And I didn’t want to. I was screaming at myself, but the words came out and I just kept smiling.”</p>
<p>Penny took a deep breath, her gaze lingering on Elise’s photo. “And, yeah, that’s just how it was until I heard Kilgrave start yelling. He was trying to say something, but I couldn’t tell what. And then I got that cold-water sensation, and I just remember thinking to myself: ‘What the hell am I doing?’ So I got up, looked over, and that’s when I saw him and Elise on the floor. And then he told someone to shoot Elise, but nothing happened.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah, I got that part,” the woman said, eyes boring into Penny. “But do you remember <em>anything </em>else? Any clue about what happened to Kilgrave leading up to that?”</p>
<p>“I couldn’t see him,” Penny said. “Only hear. But I think Elise punched that dickhead in the face.” A smile momentarily graced Penny’s features. “He had a busted lip.”</p>
<p>“She hurt him?” the woman said, hands flying over the keyboard as she took notes. “She hurt Kilgrave? Made him bleed? Are you sure that’s what you saw?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, he was definitely bleeding,” Penny said. “I mean, I don’t know for sure if Elise did it, but I know he hadn’t been bleeding when he first walked in.”</p>
<p>Her companion didn’t speak, staring at the computer monitor as if the rest of the world had melted away. Penny fidgeted, growing impatient.</p>
<p>“Ms. Jones?”</p>
<p>“Call me Jessica,” Jessica said, her eyes darting back to Penny. “And tell me if you ever noticed anything different about Elise.”</p>
<p>“Different?” Penny asked. “Like what?”</p>
<p>“Like ‘me,’ different,” Jessica said, leaning forward. “I’m sure you read online about the shit people say, since that’s the whole reason you came here.”</p>
<p>Penny shook her head, dark curls bouncing. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said. “Do you mean if I think Elise can lift up cars, or fly or some shit? No, Elise isn’t like that.”</p>
<p>“So there’s nothing?” Jessica said, brow furrowing. “You’ve seen Elise do absolutely nothing out of the ordinary indicating she has any sort of … special power?”</p>
<p>Jessica said the word ‘special’ as if it were anything but.</p>
<p>“I don’t–”</p>
<p>“Think, Penny,” Jessica said. “Sorry, just … please. I can’t stress how important this is.”</p>
<p>Penny relented. She stared into space with a worried expression. Jessica’s eyes darted back to her laptop, dancing over the lines.</p>
<p>
  <em>Made him bleed.</em>
</p>
<p>Jessica brought her thumb to her mouth, gnawing at the tip of her nail.</p>
<p>
  <em>Was that it? Did making Kilgrave bleed cancel his effects? Could anyone do that, or did it have to be Elise? Shit, had she ever seen Kilgrave bleed before? Maybe …</em>
</p>
<p>“Oh my God,” Penny said, slapping a hand over her mouth. “Oh my God! I thought he was crazy, but oh shit.”</p>
<p>“What?” Jessica said, eyes snapping back to Penny.</p>
<p>“There was this one guy in college,” Penny said, slowly shaking her head as if that would help get the memory loose. “He could tell fortunes.”</p>
<p>Jessica scoffed, rolling her eyes. This reaction, surprisingly, caused her companion to chuckle.</p>
<p>“Elise did the same goddamn thing,” Penny said. “She thought I was crazy. But I swear to God that guy <em>knew</em> I was going to sprain my wrist in badminton over a week before it happened. He even tried to warn me about it, saying I should skip the match. After that happened, I was convinced he was the real deal.”</p>
<p>“Alright,” Jessica said, willing to momentarily suspend her disbelief. “I have a feeling I know where this is going – you took Elise to see this guy?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, at a party,” Penny said. “A guy I knew from sociology bought weed off of fortune guy so I was pretty sure he’d be there. Elise and I had only known each other for a few weeks, but she was my roommate, and it sounded like it would be a good excuse for us to hang out, you know? So I took her to the party, found the guy, and paid him to read her fortune.”</p>
<p>“This ‘guy,’” Jessica said, hands hovering over her keyboard. “Does he have a name?”</p>
<p>Penny made a frustrated sound. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head.</p>
<p>“Nathan? Or Brian? I think it was a name than ended with an ‘an’ sound, or something. I’m sorry, I don’t remember.”</p>
<p>“That’s OK,” Jessica said, typing. “Go on.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, um,” Penny said, leaning back. “I paid the guy like, twenty dollars or something. Elise was kinda pissed, since she thought he was scamming me. But she still gave him her hand so he could look at her palm. And normally he would get all serious and start giving advice and stuff, but this time he started freaking out. He just kept saying ‘shit’ and freaking out and then he took off and I never saw him again after that.”</p>
<p>“Back up,” Jessica said, keeping her eyes on the laptop as she typed. “Tell me with as much detail as you remember about what this guy said.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, OK,” Penny said, squeezing her eyes closed again. “He said he couldn’t see her. Like, she took his thing and …"</p>
<p>“Oh! Oh yeah!” Penny said, opening her eyes. “You ever heard of that movie, ‘Eraser Head?’ I used to call Elise that all the time, cuz that’s what that dude called her! He called her an erasure.”</p>
<p>Jessica’s hands flew over the keyboard in a clatter.</p>
<p>“This guy,” Jessica said, regarding Penny with an intensity that caused a jolt of panic to course through her veins. “Did you ever hear about this guy again? Did he keep doing fortunes?”</p>
<p>Penny nodded, her companion’s shoulders slumping.</p>
<p>
  <em>Of course it’s not permanent. Just my luck.</em>
</p>
<p>“I thought he was crazy,” Penny said. “We both did; we joked about it for years. I had just figured that guy was a fake who had a bad night, or something. I didn’t think that it was real. That Elise had really done something …”</p>
<p>“Was Elise ever part of any sort of study?” Jessica asked, returning her attention to the laptop. “Or spend a stint a hospital due to …” The corner of Jessica’s mouth twitched. “… something. Like an injury.”</p>
<p>Penny’s brow furrowed. “Like an accident?”</p>
<p>Jessica cleared her throat, keeping her gaze averted. “Yeah.”</p>
<p>“Ah …” Penny pursed her lips as she tilted her head back and forth. “I don’t think so. She isn’t big on doctors, so Elise does everything she can to keep herself healthy, you know? Like, she told me she was sick when she was a kid, so she hates needles and all that.”</p>
<p>The chair beneath Jessica let out a creak as she shifted in her seat. “You’re talking about the leukemia?”</p>
<p>“You know about that?” Penny said, surprised.</p>
<p>“I’m a PI,” Jessica said, as if she’d been insulted.</p>
<p>Penny had the decency to look sheepish. “Um … yeah. Well, all I know is that it happened to her when she was pretty young. But I guess she had a speedy recovery, and the only trace of the experience left is that she can’t stand needles … and I guess the smell of antiseptic makes her wanna puke.”</p>
<p>Jessica’s eyes narrowed. “She had cancer, but you said she doesn’t go to the doctor. Even for checkups?”</p>
<p>Penny shrugged. “Guess she doesn’t have to? I mean, Elise said she’d fine. I guess the whole diagnosis and treatment was over within a few months, from what she remembers. And I’ve seen that girl run on the treadmill for over an hour – I sure as hell believe her when she says she’s fine.”</p>
<p>“Huh.”</p>
<p>Jessica went back to the computer and took a moment to finish typing. She rose from her chair, black boots thumping across the hardwood floor as she began to pace.</p>
<p>“So the restaurant, then the office,” Jessica said, speaking in a way that made it unclear if she were addressing Penny or herself. “And that’s it. Nothing else that stands out – no other signs of Kilgrave or Elise.”</p>
<p>“No,” Penny said, deflating in her seat. “Nothing. The police don’t even come back to watch me every day, anymore.”</p>
<p>Jessica stopped. Her head whipped around to stare at Penny. “The police had people watching you?” she asked.</p>
<p>“Yeah, for the first few weeks,” Penny said, meeting Jessica’s gaze. “Just a couple undercover guys, I think. I only noticed because there’d always be the same two guys sitting out in a huge SUV when I’d leave in the morning.”</p>
<p>“Those weren’t police,” Jessica said. She leaned over the desk, pulling over the laptop. “When was the last time you saw them?”</p>
<p>“Three days ago,” Penny said, growing alarmed. “And who the hell were they if not police?”</p>
<p>“Don’t know for sure,” Jessica said. “But I have a hunch.”</p>
<p>“Should I be worried?” Penny asked, rising from her seat. “My fiancé lives with me. Are those men going to hurt us?”</p>
<p>“I won’t let that happen,” Jessica said. “I need you to keep acting normal. Do not, under any circumstances, approach these men, alright? If you see them again, text me immediately. Can you do that?”</p>
<p>“Y-yeah,” Penny said, nodding. “I can do that.”</p>
<p>“Great,” Jessica said. She crossed the room, reaching for the door handle hiding behind a drooping bit of cardboard that had been taped up over the hole left by broken glass. When the door swung open, she watched Penny expectantly until the other woman slowly moved forward.</p>
<p>“You’re going to find her, right?” Penny said as she passed. “Please tell me you’re going to find Elise.”</p>
<p>“That’s the plan,” Jessica said. She made to close the door, stopping it halfway. “You gave me a lot of great info,” she said, guilt lacing the statement. “I’m sorry about what I said before – about you taking so long to reach out to someone about Elise.”</p>
<p>“It’s alright,” Penny said, attempting a weak smile. “Just find Elise. Please.”</p>
<p>Heels clicked over the shoddy tile floor as Penny walked away. Jessica regarded her for a moment before closing the door. She stared at the sheet of cardboard for a heartbeat before turning her back to it.</p>
<p>The scene had started out like one of those black-and-white detective serials with Humphry Bogart: A beautiful woman had been waiting outside her door – all six-inch heels and designer dress and false lashes. Jessica had already pegged her as another scorned wife looking to catch a cheating husband.</p>
<p>
  <em>Man do I need to work on my assumptions.</em>
</p>
<p>The shock of Kilgrave being back had worn off – now Jessica was just pissed. Pissed that the stupid bus hadn’t done the job, and pissed that Kilgrave had returned just to kidnap another woman with special abilities. The wackjob had a type, that’s for sure.</p>
<p>Even so …</p>
<p><em>Kilgrave ain’t the sharpest tool in the shed, </em>Jessica thought, eyes roving over the collage of papers pinned to the wall.</p>
<p>
  <em>He’s still a tool, just not one of the best. But keeping another person around who could cancel out his ability makes no sense; why take the risk?</em>
</p>
<p>Jessica snatched up a wayward pen. She circled Elise’s face.</p>
<p>“What the hell could he gain from having you around?”</p>
<p>
  <em>Jack shit.</em>
</p>
<p>“No. No. Come on,” Jessica said. She started to pace, wracking her brain for a reason why Kilgrave might keep Elise alive. Hoping, <em>praying, </em>that there was some reason other than the kindness she knew Kilgrave didn’t possess.</p>
<p>
  <em>He has guys casing Penny’s place. Why?</em>
</p>
<p>Jessica started to gnaw at her thumbnail.</p>
<p>
  <em>A big SUV. Sounds similar to the fried cars found at the station. Still no ID on the bodies, but it doesn’t take a genius to guess the men in both cases are working for Kilgrave. Why he'd kill his own guys, though, makes no sense. But it sounds like he picked up another set of brainwashed muscle to keep an eye on Penny. And there'd be no point doing that unless he was using her as collateral.</em>
</p>
<p>Which gave a good indication that Elise was alive ... as of a few days ago, anyway. Kilgrave was using more traditional means of manipulation in order to keep her in line – threatening her friend’s safety, being one. But there was still something <em>missing. </em>There was still no answer as to why Kilgrave wouldn’t eliminate Elise as a threat.</p>
<p>Kilgrave had been smart enough to have the security footage at the station wiped. He had also been smart enough to ensure the cops botched up the investigation into Detective Clemons’ suicide. What he <em>hadn’t </em>been smart enough to do was tell the cops he had looking into Elise to wipe their browsing history. It had been a risk, taking someone who could essentially make you powerless to a place crawling with cops, but apparently Kilgrave had been willing to take that risk for NYPD’s ability to perform thorough background checks.</p>
<p>After all that, though, there hadn’t been much.</p>
<p>It took Jessica some hounding, but a detective Costa had finally relented to her frequent visits to the precinct. Clemons’ death was, rightly, not sitting too well with the guy, and he had been willing to allow Jessica to review the search history and everything they’d found on Elise. Other than that fight against Leukemia when she was four, Elise had nothing out of the ordinary on her record. A few traffic violations, and a single noise complaint about a party were her only dealings with the cops. Elise was almost painfully normal, which was another reason Jessica had to worry.</p>
<p>Kilgrave wasn’t going to keep a normal woman alive – especially not one he can’t just order to turn around and go about her business as if nothing happened. No, he’s <em>using </em>her, somehow.</p>
<p>And for whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Family</p>
<p>Occupation</p>
<p>Relationships</p>
<p>Dreams</p>
<p>The FORD method of conversations was one of the first results to pop up in Kilgrave's Google search. Despite the fact that he couldn’t give two shits concerning Elise’s answers to any of these things, it seemed simple enough.</p>
<p>Kilgrave attempted to imagine that it was Jessica sitting across from him on the veranda; pursed pink lips now a darker shade of red, and narrowed eyes a brown-green opposed to blue. The pinched expression was pretty close to the pictures of her he’d collected, so Kilgrave thankfully didn’t have to stretch his imagination <em>too </em>far.</p>
<p>“Tell me, Elise,” Kilgrave said, cutting into his eggs benedict, “what is it that your parents do? Or did, rather, since I believe your father is retired?”</p>
<p>Kilgrave patted himself on the back for recalling the small detail the blonde woman had told him about Elise. She had been fairly helpful, that woman, up until the bitch shot him in the thigh.</p>
<p>Elise didn’t answer right away. She took a sip of her mimosa, staring off into the distance. She was wearing the lilac sundress Kilgrave had picked out for her, but she’d found a grey shawl among the old homeowner’s belongings, which was now wrapped around her shoulders. It wasn’t like Elise even had all that much to show off in the low-cut dress, but it irritated Kilgrave that she would blatantly alter her designated outfit. He hadn’t mentioned it, trying to win her good graces, but the topic was getting harder to keep at bay as his overall patience wore thin.</p>
<p>“Why do you think I would tell you that?” Elise said. She still wouldn’t look at him, taking another sip of her drink.</p>
<p>Kilgrave froze. “Because it’s fucking <em>polite conversation,” </em>he said between clenched teeth. The eggs benedict was forgotten – Kilgrave clutching the fork with a white-knuckled fist.</p>
<p>“But you already know,” Elise said. She began to work on her previously untouched meal. “It would be a waste of our time.”</p>
<p>Elise methodically ate, keeping her eyes lowered. She was nearly halfway done working her way through the side of potato hash before Kilgrave spoke again.</p>
<p>“So, what you’re saying is; getting to know someone like you would just be a waste, yes?”</p>
<p>The laughter bubbling up from the pathetically long amount of time it took Kilgrave for that comeback was squashed. After a second of reflection, Elise decided that laughing <em>was </em>actually the right move, but for an entirely different reason.</p>
<p>Elise let out a giggle, raising her eyes to flash a weak smile. Her companion didn’t seem to know what to make of the reaction.</p>
<p>“Funny,” Elise said, lowering her eyes again. “I didn’t think of it that way.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave lowered his fork in a mechanically slow fashion. He seemed to go back to his meal as either a stalling tactic to think up of something else witty to say, or out of the perplexity that he had inadvertently done something Elise found amusing.</p>
<p>The pair ate in silence until Elise placed her silverware on the empty plate with a soft clink.</p>
<p>“Why do you think I’m hesitant to speak candidly with you?” Elise said. She leaned back in her seat, attempting to appear casual.</p>
<p>Kilgrave smirked. “Because you’re a bitch, I’d reckon.”</p>
<p>“You’re not wrong,” Elise said. “But that’s not the entire reason.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave set his own utensils down before leaning back to mirror Elise’s relaxed posture. “I’d say because of that nonsense at the police station,” he said, waving as if the notion was nothing less than ridiculous. “No one likes being chained to a table.”</p>
<p>
  <em>Really?</em>
</p>
<p>Out of everything, Elise couldn’t believe the <em>table </em>would have been what Kilgrave picked out.</p>
<p>“It was frightening,” Elise said, picking up her glass. She drained the drink, and Kilgrave motioned for one of the guards to refill it.</p>
<p>“I saw nine people die in two days,” Elise said, watching the orange liquid churn. “I’d never seen a single person die in front of my eyes in my entire life, before then.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave made a sound of disbelief as if Elise had admitted to never learning how to ride a bike. Her grip on the glass tightened.</p>
<p>“You hardly <em>knew </em>those people,” Kilgrave said. “It was, what – two coworkers, then some blokes you’d just met? You’re blowing things <em>way </em>out of proportion.”</p>
<p>Elise was distinctly reminded of how much danger she was in. If she was watching the entire affair from the outside, she would double over in laughter at the idea that the most perilous situation in her life was being held over brunch while wearing a dainty sundress in a hideous color.</p>
<p>“Mark was a good manager,” Elise said. “And Tara was my friend.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Oh yeah, <em>‘friend.’ </em>I wouldn’t have thought that, considering what she had to say about you.”</p>
<p>Elise’s eyes snapped to meet his. Kilgrave glowed from the attention; the feeling was different, having earned her interest as opposed to simply demanding it.</p>
<p>“Oh, yes – you and Patsy being two peas in a pod left your little blonde friend quite envious,” Kilgrave said, plucking his drink from the table. “Deep down, she always wished there’d be a reason to get rid of you so she could have Patsy all to herself. Didn’t take her much convincing to come ‘round to the idea of putting a bullet between your eyes.”</p>
<p>“Oh, and that went <em>so</em> well,” Elise said, deadpan. Kilgrave’s expression hardened, and Elise decided to backpedal while she still could. “That was a joke.”</p>
<p>Now Kilgrave was regarding her as if <em>she</em> were the one who was a psychopath.</p>
<p>“The bloody cunt <em>shot me,” </em>Kilgrave said, his lip curling. “I don’t find that funny.”</p>
<p>“To be fair,” Elise said. “You had asked her to shoot <em>me</em>. I think that makes it even.”</p>
<p>“Like hell!” Kilgrave said. “You didn’t get a hole blasted through your leg!”</p>
<p>“No,” Elise said, bristling, “but I’ve been stuck sleeping on a pile of soiled blankets in a cramped room for a month.”</p>
<p>The comparison wasn’t even close – not one bit. But to a person whose picture should be plastered on Wikipedia under ‘stuck-up, ass-faced snob,’ it could be seen as quite the offense.</p>
<p>Kilgrave wrinkled his nose. “On the <em>floor?”</em></p>
<p>“On the floor.”</p>
<p>The very idea of sleeping on the floor seemed to disturb Kilgrave more than literal murder. “What room are you in?” he asked. “The studio?”</p>
<p>
  <em>Are you fucking serious?</em>
</p>
<p>“The office,” Elise said, doing everything humanly possible to keep contempt from seeping into her voice. “I think.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave snapped his fingers, beckoning one of the guards over. “Move her things to the studio, yeah? And get a bloody bed in there.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave looked back to Elise, smiling as if he deserved a medal – as if he hadn’t been the entire reason she’d been sleeping on the floor in the first place.</p>
<p>
  <em>Dick.</em>
</p>
<p>“Thank you,” Elise said, returning the sunny expression. “That’s very nice of you.”</p>
<p>“Innit?” Kilgrave said, self-satisfied. “I’m not a monster, you know – I’m quite a generous man, really. I offer people an opportunity to escape the mundane hum-drum of their lives and do something <em>exciting </em>for a change. For example – do you have any idea where Anton would be right now if he wasn’t working for me?”</p>
<p><em>No, because he’d be a free man who could go anywhere, </em>Elise thought. She decided it was best to only verbalize part of the statement.</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“Six feet under, I’d reckon,” Kilgrave said, tapping the table. “That man was working himself to death at Per Se – fourteen hours days, smoking like a chimney, all that. And he <em>told </em>me this when I asked him, mind. He <em>told </em>me how miserable his life was. And now? Now, Anton only works for me, which I can imagine is a far less stressful environment than a frenetic kitchen.”</p>
<p>The corner of Elise’s mouth twitched. “That’s …” she said, dragging out the word. “How kind.”</p>
<p>“Very,” Kilgrave said. He took a sip of mimosa, watching her expectantly.</p>
<p>Elise fidgeted, unsure of what it was Kilgrave was looking for.</p>
<p>“And all this lot, here,” Kilgrave said, pointing at the solemn guards. “They’re getting paid top-dollar, as you Americans would put it. Aside from that mess when I went to get you, they’ve hardly had to do a thing. Easy living, this lot.”</p>
<p>“Right.”</p>
<p>The chipper expression on Kilgrave’s face ebbed away as he studied Elise. She was regarding the table, her eyes fixated on his fingers drumming against the white cloth.</p>
<p>
  <em>Occupation.</em>
</p>
<p>“Your job,” Kilgrave said. “Like being a sales clerk, do you?”</p>
<p>“Accountant,” Elise said, not meeting his gaze. “I’m a CPA.”</p>
<p>“Good with numbers then, yeah?” Kilgrave said. He leaned forward, putting on what he believed to be a charming smile. “You must be very talented.”</p>
<p>“There was a reason I could afford to shop at Lacroix,” Elise said. This hadn’t been the reaction her companion was hoping for, but it was still a step in the right direction.</p>
<p>“Sitting at a desk all day, working with numbers,” Kilgrave said. “I’d blow my bloody brains out. But I suppose to each their own, hmm?”</p>
<p>Elise nodded. “Yes; I used to enjoy my job very much.”</p>
<p>Something sharp had slipped in the end of the statement. Elise cleared her throat before helping herself to more mimosa. The annotation to her voice didn’t go unnoticed.</p>
<p>“But there’s nothing to complain about now, is there?” Kilgrave said, sliding something nefarious into his own tone:</p>
<p>A warning.</p>
<p>“No responsibilities,” he continued, slowly swirling the contents of his drink. “Penthouse apartment, fine dining, expensive outfits.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave’s smile widened. He regarded Elise as if daring her to say otherwise. Any rebuttal would be a complete lie, considering he had found there was no one in this world who didn’t want these things, deep down. The upper hand was his, and he was feeling practically giddy when Elise finally looked up at him with a demure expression. She opened her mouth, closed it, then something in her attitude shifted.</p>
<p>“What do you do?” Elise asked.</p>
<p>Kilgrave’s brow furrowed. “What do <em>I </em>do?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Elise said. “You asked me about my job; I’d like to know about yours.”</p>
<p>A chuckle escaped Kilgrave. “What <em>I </em>do,” he said, waving. “Is whatever the bloody hell I want. I’ve traveled the world; I’ve seen every architectural wonder and sat down with every important leader. I’ve met more celebrities than you could count – including the infamous ones.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave shot her a wink. “What I do, Elise, is live my life doing whatever the fuck I want without boundaries. I’m living the life every person on this bloody planet would kill to have. And …”</p>
<p>Kilgrave reached across the divide. Elise didn’t move, save for her eyes tracking his hand as it hovered over her own. Something struck her companion, however, and he pulled back.</p>
<p>“And I’m offering you that life, Elise,” Kilgrave said, making a poor attempt at sounding suave. The accent helped, but it wasn’t enough to cover up the fact that Kilgrave had never really had to convince anyone to do anything before. He recited the line with the same level of bravado one would expect from a D-List actor at his first gig.</p>
<p>But whatever charm he was trying to throw out was deftly dodged. “So, you’ve never had a job,” Elise said.</p>
<p>Kilgrave raised his brows. “Wah?”</p>
<p>“Even when you were younger?” Elise said, suddenly looking very interested. “Like, sold hot dogs on a stick, or handed out flyers? Never?”</p>
<p>“Obviously never, you daft cow!” Kilgrave said. “If you think grinding your life away at a pointless bloody job is so noble, how about I assign you one now, hmm? You can tell me all about how ‘accomplished’ you feel after eating every bloody plant on the veranda!”</p>
<p>Elise looked about. The large veranda was lined with a variety of plants and flowers, creating a scene that she must’ve found more pleasing than Kilgrave, considering how ready he was to be rid of it.</p>
<p>“Now, Elise!” Kilgrave said, slamming his palm on the table. Elise flinched, but didn’t move from her seat.</p>
<p>“Oh, fucking hell,” Kilgrave said, seemingly forgetting the entire reason Elise was special in the first place.</p>
<p>Panic fluttered through Elise’s chest. Things most certainly wouldn’t progress for her in the household if this casual meeting became their last.</p>
<p>“Sorry if I offended you,” Elise said. “I just wanted to learn more about you.”</p>
<p>It was like a switch had been flipped. Kilgrave’s posture relaxed as he sunk back into his seat.</p>
<p>“Did you, now?” he said, suspicious.</p>
<p>Kilgrave reached for his drink, Elise mirroring his movements.</p>
<p>“I figured someone like you,” Elise said, drawing the glass from her lips, “would be very talented in a number of professions.”</p>
<p>They were getting back into the territory of Kilgrave being complimented, which caused the object of said attention to sit up a little straighter. “Oh?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Yes,” Elise said. “Anything with getting someone to tell the truth, really. Like a … detective, um … lawyer, a fraud investigator – you could help a lot of people.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave scoffed. “Who the fuck cares? Spending my days toiling away for the sake of lemmings going about their dull lives – I’d die of boredom, that.”</p>
<p>Elise drummed her fingers over her thigh. “What about the supers?”</p>
<p>This elicited a raised brow.</p>
<p>“I’m sure their lives are far from boring,” Elise said. It took every ounce of her will to keep a casual cadence to her voice. “And with a power like yours … you’d be one of the best heroes out there.”</p>
<p>Elise’s heart was beating so fast she could only hope Kilgrave was far enough from her not to hear it. She watched with bated breath as he looked about, actually contemplating the idea.</p>
<p><em>‘And what would a super do, you think?’ </em>he would ask.</p>
<p><em>‘Letting me go, would be a good start,’ </em>she’d reply.</p>
<p>“Aw,” Kilgrave said, scrunching up his nose as if he smelled something foul. “But they have those stupid costumes and those stupid bloody ‘hero names’ for themselves; embarrassing.”</p>
<p>
  <em>YOUR NAME IS ‘KILGRAVE’ YOU HYPOCRITICAL DOUCHE NOZZLE</em>
</p>
<p>A sweet smile touched Elise’s features. “I think it’s very brave,” she said. “They look out for everyone. I value feeling safe, and the heroes do a great job at that.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave regarded her with an incredulous expression. “What, you don’t feel safe here? You think I’m just paying security to stand ‘round with their bloody thumbs up their asses?”</p>
<p>“Oh, no, they do a great job,” Elise said. “They’re just not <em>you, </em>you know? Nothing can touch us when you’re here.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave blinked owlishly for a moment before turning his head away with a bashful smile. Elise almost felt guilty over how easy it was to manipulate him using praise. The key word here, though, is ‘almost.’ She was sitting across from someone who wouldn’t give a second thought telling a stranger to jump out a window or step in front of a moving train – her sympathy could only stretch so far.</p>
<p>“You’re so talented,” Elise said, hoping she wasn’t laying it on too thick. “I feel kind of bad for people who won’t get to really appreciate it.”</p>
<p>“Like you, for example,” Kilgrave said. He leaned forward with an inviting smile. “Any of the other women who’ve had the pleasure of my company enjoyed themselves to the fullest extent. What would it take for you to get there all on your own, I wonder?”</p>
<p>
  <em>Shit. What’s happening?</em>
</p>
<p>Elise wracked her brain. Kilgrave was clearly hitting on her – but why? He wouldn’t dare touch her, and he’d already admitted having interest in another wo–</p>
<p>
  <em>Oh.</em>
</p>
<p>The stupid training wheel metaphor.</p>
<p>Elise put on the sort of expression common on subway posters pushing antidepressants. “What time is it?”</p>
<p>Kilgrave frowned, lifting his wrist. His eyes widened, and he looked back to her in a way which Elise could only hope was reluctance.</p>
<p>“I’ve got a meeting,” he said.</p>
<p>“I’ll be here,” Elise said, banking that Kilgrave wasn’t attuned enough to pick up on the sarcasm.</p>
<p>Kilgrave nodded. He rose to his feet and divided his attention between glancing her way and buttoning his jacket. When the task was done, he opened his mouth, closed it, then turned to the guards. “She can go wherever she likes save for the upper landing. Other rules stay the same.”</p>
<p>“Sir,” the men chorused.</p>
<p>Kilgrave appeared just as surprised by the statement as Elise. He shot her another passing glance before walking away. The guards followed, save for the one who planted himself at her side. Elise didn’t acknowledge this, nor did she bother hiding the smug expression growing on her face.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Kilgrave had to be the dullest goddamn person on the planet.</p>
<p>Elise never imagined she’d have something in common with a wealthy sixties housewife who spent her time sitting around day drinking until her husband would come home, grumble some antidotes about his day at the widget factory, then be in bed by nine … but here she was.</p>
<p>Her captor was an early riser for no apparent reason other than to piss her off. The man had absolutely nowhere to be, and yet he insisted on being up at the crack of dawn and blasting the 6’oclock news full volume as he thumped around upstairs. This would go on for an hour or so until Elise would be summoned for breakfast.</p>
<p>But not <em>every time. </em></p>
<p>No, Elise still needed to get up, put on a full face of makeup, and be ready to be called even if there were mornings that – for whatever reason – Kilgrave decided he didn’t want her company. These were the days Elise liked to stretch the limits of her imagination as she pictured her thumbs shoving through his eye sockets. Her time may not have been that limited, either, but damn it if she hated it being tossed aside as if it were nothing.</p>
<p>When the breakfasts <em>did</em> come, whatever topic of conversation they started out with almost always devolved into a slog of Elise placating Kilgrave with compliments. This happened repeatedly because, as Elise had come to discover, Kilgrave had the temperament of a moody teenager and was only a fraction smarter.</p>
<p>It was like the man was going down some sort of checklist – some new (but sadly uninteresting) angle waiting for Elise day after day. He’d ask her what her ‘Love Language,’ was, only to throw a fit when Elise pointed out how an attempt to cram complex feelings into five or six categories didn’t make any sense.</p>
<p>Talking about politics didn’t go well, since the conversation veered dangerously close to lumping Kilgrave in with the worst dictators.</p>
<p>Even art, a topic Kilgrave was actually quite knowledgeable in, went up in flames when Elise used the term ‘subjective’ when it came to labeling ‘good art’ and ‘bad art’ – which according to Kilgrave made her an uneducated dolt.</p>
<p>Anytime Elise could run circles around him on a topic, Kilgrave took it as a personal attack on his intelligence. Which seemed to happen almost every time Elise disagreed with him on <em>anything. </em>And sometimes she couldn’t even help it – the man almost had her shot when she mentioned getting an MBA, as if her achievements somehow belittled his own. But he didn’t really have any achievements he could rightly take credit for, so Elise was stuck between a rock and a hard place in that regard.</p>
<p>After breakfast, Kilgrave would leave the penthouse for at least a few hours before returning with little to no comment on what he had been doing during the day. Generally, the two of them would avoid each other for the most part; only being in the same room when Elise would line up with the others to watch Kilgrave have his dinner. He never invited her to join him, which she figured was probably a part of some passive aggressive bullshit concerning what happened the last time he did so. The joke was on him, though, since dinner cleanup and what came after was her favorite time of the day.</p>
<p>If Anton smoked like a chimney before, now he was a fucking barge. The chef would spend hours leaning over the railing of the small veranda off his room as he went through pack after pack. Elise wondered if he had been able to make some special deal with Kilgrave, since the man never seemed to run out.</p>
<p>Elise, Anton, and Joanne – the maid – never said a word to each other during the day. Kilgrave had ordered them not to speak out of paranoia of them conspiring against him. He wasn’t wrong, surely, and Elise had to wonder if this was a lesson learned from a past incident of an entire household of overworked staff rising up against him.</p>
<p>But this order <em>technically </em>lifted when Kilgrave was home, so Elise and Anton were able to chat in hushed conversation after Kilgrave would retire upstairs. The guards didn’t seem to care, and Elise caught some of them watching longingly as she and Anton would giggle like school children over antidotes from their past lives, or a raunchy joke (Anton told most of them, but Elise had a few up her sleeve). The guards were only human, too, which was a fact that slipped her mind sometimes. However, Elise could only have so much sympathy – <em>they</em> actually got to go outside, and had a hefty paycheck waiting for them at the end of the day (minus medical expenses from when Kilgrave ordered them to hurt themselves over minor transgressions).</p>
<p>Elise eventually fell into a routine where she would spend most of her evenings on Anton’s balcony, eating leftovers as she watched the man make enough smoke to put a forest fire to shame.</p>
<p>“Are you getting paid?” Elise asked one night, a plush blue blanket draped over her shoulders as she sat in his small deck chair. She lifted a mug of lobster bisque to her lips and took a loud slurp.</p>
<p>“Theoretically,” Anton said, flicking a bud over the railing. “Not gonna see a cent until the boss dismisses me from his service.”</p>
<p>Elise felt horrible for hoping that time wasn’t soon.</p>
<p>“When will that be?” she said. Her eyes tracked Anton’s hand as he pulled another cigarette from his pocket.</p>
<p>“Probably when I’m dead,” the chef said. “My payment will be getting a decked-out tomb like an Egyptian Pharaoh. I’ll have the benefit of being able to enjoy my riches in the afterlife.”</p>
<p>Elise dropped her gaze. She took another – much softer – sip of the bisque.</p>
<p>“Don’t feel so bad for me,” Anton said, using his hand to protect his lighter from the night breeze. “Other than the constant ‘Am I gonna die today?’ thing, I’ve had worse jobs.”</p>
<p>“You can’t be serious,” Elise said.</p>
<p>“I started out as a prison cook,” Anton said, wiggling his brows. “Honestly, the only difference now is that I have the confidence my cigarettes were <em>probably </em>not smuggled in anyone’s ass.”</p>
<p>Elise covered her mouth with an unexpected laugh. Her laughter died down as she struggled to get composed.</p>
<p>“That can’t be true,” she said, wiping the tears from her eyes. “You worked at one of the best restaurants in the city – would they really hire someone with a record?”</p>
<p>“Money and connections make a lot of problems go away,” Anton said. “I didn’t have the first one, but working my ass off after I got released got me the second. That’s the same with you, ain’t it, country girl?” He had learned what reaction the nickname would elicit, and smirked when Elise rolled her eyes.</p>
<p>“I’m from <em>Austin,” </em>Elise said. “Seriously, for the last time – I grew up in a giant city. No cows, no corn, no country.”</p>
<p>“‘Cept the music?”</p>
<p>“They’d disown me, otherwise,” Elise said, relenting. She looked into the night, over the endless stretch of skyscrapers and warehouses and apartment complexes. It had been the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen, back when she first moved to New York. Now, she wanted nothing more than to be breathing in the dry air and watching the city lights gleaming off the Colorado River. Her heart ached in a way that she was, sadly, beginning to get quite used to.</p>
<p>“Take me home, country road!” Anton sang, waving the cigarette through the air like a baton. “To the place, I belong!”</p>
<p>“Oh my God, that’s not even Texas!” Elise said, noting that the sparkle in Anton’s eye probably meant he was well aware of that fact. “It’s not even country!”</p>
<p>“Art is subjective,” Anton said, a teasing smile touching his lips. He was usually within earshot when Kilgrave would have his meltdowns, which he would dub as <em>‘the best entertainment slavery can buy.’</em></p>
<p>“Well, that makes you an ‘uneducated dolt,’” Elise said, adding a flair of poor British accent.</p>
<p>“An uneducated dolt with the pipes of an angel,” Anton said, knowing quite well that the years of smoking meant otherwise.</p>
<p>“West Virginia!” Anton belted. He waved his hand, motioning for Elise to join in. “Mountain Mama!”</p>
<p>Elise laughed. She put aside her mug before getting to her feet. In an act that could possibly be construed as collective suicide if their ‘boss’ happened to take offense, Elise and Anton sang.</p>
<p>“Take me home, country roads!”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Elise’s new room in the studio was nice, she had to admit. There was a bed, unblocked windows, and privacy – three things she certainly didn’t have before. It was slightly smaller than the office had been, but she wouldn’t trade the upgrades plus the collection of art supplies for the world. Elise was just as shitty of a painter as she was an illustrator, but having something to actually <em>do </em>during the day was as intoxicating as the martinis she started downing at noon.</p><p><em>I should really start cutting back on the booze, </em>Elise thought. It was probably hell on her liver, although she had the feeling she wasn’t going to make it to the age where that would be much of a problem, anyway.</p><p>Elise felt the vibration of a frantic pounding against her door. She squeaked, dropping her brush.</p><p>“Living room, now,” one of the guards said, peaking his head in. Elise quickly obliged, wrapping an airy cardigan around herself as she followed. When the living room came into view, Elise spotted Kilgrave standing on the stairs, hands on his hips.</p><p>“What, are your feet made of lead?” Kilgrave said. He turned, bounding up the stairs. “Get a wiggle on, it’s about to start.”</p><p>
  <em>The fuck?</em>
</p><p>Elise glanced at her guard. He gave her a nod, and she shot back a dubious look before cautiously making her way to the stairs. They were less slippery than she had imaged – whatever fancy clear plastic material they were made of gripping the bottoms of her slippers with ease.</p><p>When she crested the landing, Elise looked about. The room was <em>huge. </em>A king-sized bed sat against the far wall, and an entertainment center flanked by four oversized recliners made up an adjoining sitting area. A printer sat on the desk against the only solid wall, a black curtain strung up behind it. Elise frowned, her eyes lingering on it for a moment before a shout from Kilgrave caught her attention.</p><p>“We’re England!” Kilgrave bellowed, eyes firmly fixed on the eighty-inch television. “We’re gonna score one more than you! England!”</p><p>Elise contemplated what she would like better: soccer or death. It was a hard decision.</p><p>Her answer was slowly sinking into the armchair beside Kilgrave. He hardly noticed, now joining in the chorus of ‘nah nah nah’s’ alongside the crowd panning across the screen.</p><p>“England is playing?” Elise asked, making the most obvious inquiry known to man.</p><p>“Against Argentina,” Kilgrave said, as if Elise was supposed to know what that meant. She hummed as if she actually found the information interesting.</p><p>Elise didn’t say anything more as she sat watching the announcements and anthems with a blank expression. There was a low level of anxiety over if more enthusiasm was expected on her part, but luckily her companion seemed far more focused on the screen than her reactions. As the game started, she only hoped this would remain true since saying she wasn’t a fan of the sport was an understatement.</p><p>But Elise unexpectedly found herself fascinated. It wasn’t the soccer, although Elise hated to admit she was having a much better time experiencing the game with pictures than she had been without. What turned out to be mesmerizing was the scene playing out roughly four feet to her right.</p><p>She hadn’t noticed it before, but Kilgrave had abandoned his usual suit and tie for an England soccer jersey along with a pair of slacks. His hair wasn’t jelled, and he didn’t stink of the overpowering cologne which was the norm. His appearance, paired with the shouts and gesticulations accompanying his devout attention to the game, made him seem …</p><p>Normal.</p><p>Like a normal fucking person. Like any other English transplant supporting his team from across the pond. Like any other person who enjoyed sports and had invited someone to watch with him and share in the collective ups and downs of the game. Like the kind of person who wouldn’t even dream of hopping on a jet after the game was through and ordering the coach to hang himself in the locker room if his team lost.</p><p>
  <em>This is weird.</em>
</p><p>“Oh, you bloody wanker!” Kilgrave said, nostrils flaring. “He was right there! Just get in the way of the ball, you blasted idiot!”</p><p>Elise snorted. Kilgrave’s eyes shot to her, and she panicked.</p><p>“Yeah, you donut!” she said, bringing her attention back to the screen. Elise held her breath, hoping Kilgrave wouldn’t notice she’d been laughing at him. In an almost endearing way, for once, but it was still laughing <em>at </em>him – Elise was sure people had died for far more trivial reasons.</p><p>“He is a bloody donut,” Kilgrave said. He chuckled, “Donut, eh? Where’d you pick that one up?”</p><p>Elise allowed herself to sink back into the chair as her life stopped flashing before her eyes. “Um, Hell’s Kitchen, probably,” she said. “The show – not the neighborhood.”</p><p>“Ramsay?” Kilgrave said. He’d leaned forward in his seat, eyes locked on the screen. “He’s the bloke running that, right?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Elise said, beginning to wonder if Kilgrave had been swapped with the ‘good twin’ when no one was watching. “I like his shows.”</p><p>“Cheeky bastard,” Kilgrave said. “Oh, come on! Go! GO!”</p><p>Kilgrave got to his feet, urging the players on as England made their way toward the goal. His joyous shouting morphed into a frustrated groan when the ball missed its mark and bounced off the goal’s frame. The leather armchair let out a dramatic puff as Kilgrave collapsed back into it.</p><p>“Excellent chef, though,” Kilgrave said, rubbing his eyes.</p><p>“I would assume so,” Elise said, regarding Kilgrave as if his skin had turned orange. “I’ve, uh, been to one of his restaurants, but he wasn’t there at the time. It did prompt me to buy one of his cookbooks, though.”</p><p>“Yeah?” Kilgrave said, dropping his hand to regard her.</p><p>“Yes,” Elise said. “I can’t say I can make anything from it very well save for a roasted chicken. I’ve had better luck with the things in Mary Berry’s cookbook.”</p><p>“Oh, you’re one of <em>those,” </em>Kilgrave said, eyes going back to the screen.</p><p>“One of <em>what?” </em>Elise said, forgetting that raising her voice was likely to get her into some very dangerous territory.</p><p>“You watch that bloody baking show, don’t you?” Kilgrave asked, wrinkling his nose.</p><p>“I love that show!” Elise said. She had found a hill to (possibly literally) die on, as it were. “Everyone on that show is so <em>nice. </em>It’s so relaxing compared to the other competition shows where everyone is cutthroat and throwing each other under the bus.”</p><p>“Oi!” Kilgrave said, pointing at her. “Don’t you use that term!”</p><p>Elise couldn’t hide the bewildered look as if Kilgrave had gone off his rocker. Having anyone look at him like that normally never failed to push Kilgrave over the edge. He opened his mouth, but the beratement died on his lips.</p><p>There was something else fighting the anger bubbling in his gut; a desire to turn back the clock by a few seconds to get back to how Elise had been looking at him up until this point. Something about it was different in a sense that was hard to explain; like she’d been studying him, but not in the way that made him feel as if he was being dissected akin to their usual interactions.</p><p>“The problem with the bloody show,” Kilgrave said, turning away, “is that you Americans don’t get how stressful the whole situation is. The blokes on there may seem calm as cucumbers, but underneath the surface, they’re writhing in anxiety and self-doubt something awful – our lot just tends not to show it.”</p><p>“Huh,” Elise said, gears slowly turning as she struggled to process information that had nothing to do with a baking show.</p><p>“But,” Kilgrave said, flexing his hands. “You’re right about that; they are <em>nice.”</em></p><p>Elise nodded, scared that saying anything might break whatever spell Kilgrave seemed to be under.</p><p>“You like to bake, yeah?” Kilgrave said. “I remember that about you.”</p><p><em>Yeah, you used that fact to call me boring, </em>Elise thought, recalling the true motivation behind his past statement.</p><p>“I do like to bake,” Elise said.</p><p>“Have you made anything since you’ve been staying with me?” he asked.</p><p>Elise bristled.</p><p>
  <em>‘Since I’ve been staying with you?’ Like I’m just on a fucking vacation?</em>
</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Tell Anton what you need, and he’ll add it to the list,” Kilgrave said. The television was showing commercials, but he still kept his gaze averted. “I’ll make sure of that.”</p><p>The last statement was like a blow to the gut. Elise clenched her hands. “You don’t have to,” she said. “Tell him to, I mean. I think he’ll do it if I ask.”</p><p>Kilgrave looked at her then, a frown settling on his face.</p><p>“People will just…do things for you if you’re nice to them,” Elise said. Her companion’s frown deepened.</p><p>“What will you do for me, then?” Kilgrave said. This hadn’t been what Elise was expecting, judging by the startled look on her face.</p><p>“Uh,” Elise said, fidgeting in her seat. “Can it be something I was going to say anyway?”</p><p>“Sounds like a bit of a cop-out,” Kilgrave said. Despite this, he watched her expectantly.</p><p>“Your look today,” Elise said, gesturing to him. “It’s nice. Very relaxed – it suits you.”</p><p>Kilgrave scoffed, although his reluctance to meet her gaze betrayed that he was still flattered by the sentiment.</p><p>“That’s a bloody stupid thing to say,” he said, looking about as if he were tracking a fly around the room. “My suits are leagues more expensive than this rubbish.”</p><p>“It can be intimidating,” Elise said. “It’s like you’re all business, even when you’re here. The outfit you have now is more…um…<em>relatable, </em>I guess.”</p><p>Kilgrave was frowning again, but this time it was accentuated with a slight nod. He drummed his fingers over the leather armchair in thought.</p><p>“This look is more <em>domestic,” </em>he said. “I take it?”</p><p>“Yeah, that’s a good word for it,” Elise said. She watched Kilgrave reposition himself to face the television again as the game came back on.</p><p>“This was my father’s,” Kilgrave said, tugging on the jersey. “Didn’t fit when I came across it as a kid; fits fine, now.”</p><p>Elise felt like she had been tossed into a shark tank – she just had to figure out if the sharks were of the harmless leopard variety or if she was about to get chomped in two by a great white.</p><p>“Do you like it?” she asked.</p><p>“Do you?”</p><p>“I already told you what I think,” Elise said. Her companion didn’t speak right away.</p><p>“Yeah,” Kilgrave said, his eyes tracking the white dot being kicked over a sea of green. “It’s alright.”</p><p>Elise didn’t say much for the rest of the game, but Kilgrave started to add commentary over every play – explaining who each player was, their strengths, their shortcomings, and what they were doing right and wrong at any given moment. The words flowed so seamlessly, Elise couldn’t help but wonder if he had done this before. Whether it had been to a guard, one of his “guests,” or even just to himself. Elise had a feeling that it may have been the latter, which would explain the TV’s volume of previous games. She told herself that the twang of pity was simply due to her being an average human being who possessed a normal amount of empathy.</p><p>In the end, England claimed victory 4 to 3. Had Elise not witnessed the game personally, she wouldn’t have been able to tell who won based on the string of slurs escaping Kilgrave’s mouth. He let out a triumphant whoop, practically leaping out of his seat before crossing to the other end of the room.</p><p>“Well, this calls for copious amounts of Champaign!” Kilgrave said. He opened the door to a walk-in closet, putting his hands on his hips as he gazed about. “Come on, Jessica – go slip into something nice.”</p><p>Kilgrave leafed through the array of suits ranging from blacks, to greys, to various shades of purple. He was musing which restaurant to go to, which played a role in which suit to choose. He was thinking Giovanni’s, which meant that he was leaning toward a deep wine. He was having trouble matching a tie with that one, though, being torn between a couple of options.</p><p>“Elise knows about ties, yeah?” Kilgrave said, musing to himself. He pulled a few of them off the rack, then paused. “Wait, what did I…?”</p><p>Kilgrave jogged back into the bedroom. Elise was gone.</p><p>“Shit,” Kilgrave said, tossing the ties aside. Kilgrave may have been far from the expert on women he believed himself to be, but he knew enough to be aware that calling one by the wrong name was never desirable.</p><p>“Where’s Elise?” Kilgrave said, looking down the stairs. A head popped into view a second later.</p><p>“She’s in her bedroom, sir,” the guard said. “Would you like me to bring her here?”</p><p>“No,” Kilgrave said. He stepped away, crossing the room to scoop up the wayward ties. About fifteen minutes later, he had changed – forgoing the plum suit for a charcoal, accenting it with a purple tie with a repeating pattern of green triangles. He studied himself in the mirror, running his hand over the tie before making his way downstairs.</p><p>“I’m going out for dinner,” Kilgrave said as he passed the kitchen. The chef, who seemed to be in the middle of searing some scallops, came to a stop.</p><p>“Finish up,” Kilgrave said. “It’ll be for the help.” He cleared his throat, running his hand over his tie. “Make sure Elise gets the best of it.”</p><p>Kilgrave strode across the living room, his guards turning to follow like ants in a line. He gave a final glance over his shoulder at the rows of doors along the hallway. His gaze held there for a moment before he turned and walked out.</p>
<hr/><p>Elise had learned something new – it turns out being called by the wrong name hurt even if the person doing it was a psychopath who you hated with every fiber of your being.</p><p>“I should submit that to a scientific journal,” she said, painting a streak of red across the small canvas. She went in for another glob of paint – blue, this time.</p><p>“That was a good thing, right?” Elise said, using short, swift strokes. “He didn’t even have a guard up there with us. And if Jessica is the name of the woman he’s after, then that means I remind him of someone who puts him at ease.”</p><p>The colors were bleeding into an array of streaks looking something like a sunset reflecting off the ocean … if you squinted. Elise’s strokes grew more frantic, the colors growing less defined.</p><p>“I need to be separated,” Elise stated. “I need to be different. If he uses me as a stand-in for Jessica, then the whole thing will collapse once it hits him that I’m not her.”</p><p>Elise’s breathing grew more haggard as her arm flew over the canvas. “What do I know about Jessica? That she’s snarky, wouldn’t waste wine, and…watched soccer?”</p><p>A frustrated grunt escaped Elise. “Well, I’ve been pretty good at pulling back on the snark, and I can quit the drinking. I’ll have to stick with the soccer, though, if I want him to open up.”</p><p>Elise pulled back her hand. She stared at the canvas, her expression going blank. Without a word, she got up, heading toward the sink to wash her hands.</p><p>The canvas was nothing but streaks of purple.</p>
<hr/><p>Elise awoke with a sneeze. She sniffled, her eyes feeling like they had dumbbells chained to the lids as she slowly forced them open. She was met with the sight of a large, pink splotch.</p><p>A startled yelp escaped her as Elise stumbled out of bed. She scrambled away, only to back into a soft object which certainly <em>hadn’t </em>been there last night. Another shout accented her getting to her feet. Her head twisted about, taking in the array of colors closing in and wondering what the fuck was happening.</p><p>“Aaaaggghhhchoo! Aw, fuck.”</p><p>A runny nose was wiped with a pink pajama sleeve. Elise’s vision was a little better, but everything still had a hazy tint to it. She was able to discern that she was in her room, though, although it was practically unrecognizable being filled to the brim with flowers and stuffed animals.</p><p>“Are you kidding me?” Elise’s red-rimmed eyes danced over the roses, the lilies, the daisies, and the hydrangea. There was a stuffed bear the size of a person where the easel had once been, and it appeared to be holding a gleaming box of truffles.</p><p>“Jesus Christ.”</p><p>It took a minute of bushwhacking, but Elise eventually found her silk robe, throwing it around herself as she exited the room. She gasped and took a breath of air that wasn’t filled to the brim with pollen.</p><p>“Kilgrave wants you to join him for breakfast,” the guard in the hallway said. He was wearing shades, but the tilt to his head indicated the man was looking her up and down. “When you’re ready.”</p><p>Elise brushed past the guard into the living room. Anton was cleaning up in the kitchen, the man pausing to regard her with a slack-jawed expression as she strolled toward the veranda. The glass door swung open with a flourish as Elise stepped into the daylight.</p><p>Kilgrave, sporting his usual suit, was reading the paper. He turned at the sound of Elise’s footfalls, a pleasant smile on his lips. The expression fell away the second he got a good look at her.</p><p>“That!” Elise said, pointing toward the house. “Is totally uncalled for!”</p><p>The paper was tossed aside, Kilgrave getting to his feet. “What the bloody hell are you going on about?”</p><p>“The flowers!” Elise said, gesticulating. “And the toys and the chocolate! All of it!”</p><p>“There’s also Champagne,” Kilgrave said, annoyed.</p><p>“Just say you’re sorry, goddamnit!” Elise said.</p><p>Kilgrave scoffed. “I’ve never apologized for a single sodding thing in my life.”</p><p>“Ya think?!” Elise wiped her swollen face, leaving red splotches behind. “That back there is not an apology, OK?!”</p><p>“Well, no shit,” Kilgrave said.</p><p>“Oh, uh-huh,” Elise said, crossing her arms. “Then what do you call it?”</p><p>Kilgrave let out a forced chuckle, his eyes wandering about. “Someone gave me all that crap and I offloaded it on you – big whoop. You should be bloody grateful, that.”</p><p>“Oh, my God, just shut up!” Elise said. The guards on the veranda, who had previously been milling about in a way that made them seem busy, froze in place. They watched as Kilgrave’s posture went rigid, his eyes going so wide they threatened to pop out of his skull.</p><p>“Don’t you <em>dare </em>tell me to do anything you fucking cu–!”</p><p>“I’m already your goddamned friend, you don’t need to go so far!” Elise shouted over him. The remainder of Kilgrave’s expletive trailed away.</p><p>“What am I supposed to do if I ever need to apologize to you, huh? Buy you a fucking helicopter?!” Elise drug her hands through her hair as she let out a frustrated sound. “I don’t want to set that kind of precedent! Just say you’re sorry, I’ll forgive you, then we can eat some eggs and have you get pissed at me for knowing jack shit about … about Baroque’s fugues or some other bullshit, like normal!”</p><p>It was hard to say – since her vision still wasn’t that great – but Elise was pretty sure Kilgrave was studying her as if she were insane. She couldn’t decipher if having a psychopath look at you that way was a good thing or not.</p><p>“As if I’m gonna be able to get down any food sitting across from someone who looks like a goddamn junkie,” Kilgrave finally said.</p><p>“Well, this is going to be me all day,” Elise said, indicating her face. “So, take it or leave it.”</p><p>Kilgrave bared his teeth in disgust. He looked her up and down for a moment before making his decision. “Leave it.”</p><p>“Great!” Elise said, turning on her heel. She stormed toward the house, her pink robe billowing behind her like a cape.</p><p>“Sorry,” Kilgrave said. He watched Elise pause as she opened the door.</p><p>“It’s fine,” she replied. Elise went inside, Kilgrave tracking her through the windows until she disappeared around a corner. He huffed.</p><p>“Wasn’t hungry, anyway,” Kilgrave said, stepping away from the long table that had been filled with enough food to cater a buffet. It was a little hard to know someone’s favorite dish, having never cared to ask, so Kilgrave had just requested a bit of everything. Anton wouldn’t like it, but hey, that’s what the man was getting paid for, right?</p><p>Kilgrave barked the order for the chef to clean up as he passed through the living room and ascended the stairs. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, pacing about the bedroom as if he didn’t quite know what to do with himself.</p><p>“My friend.”</p><p>Kilgrave scoffed. <em>“’My friend.’ </em>As if we’re in bloody grade school or something – daft cow.”</p><p>His pacing led him to the corner of the room. Kilgrave came to a stop, staring at the black curtain hanging over the wall. He had one of the guards put it up before yesterday’s match so Elise wouldn’t see the ocean of pictures hiding behind it. In all honesty, Kilgrave shouldn’t give a damn whether Elise saw them or not – they were none of her goddamn business. She shouldn’t give a shit about what, or <em>who,</em> was on the other side, anyway.</p><p>And yet, Kilgrave didn’t like dwelling on how she might feel if she did. It was an alarming, and very foreign, feeling to him which he tried not to think about too much.</p><p>Kilgrave reached out to pull down the black curtain. His hand wrapped around the material, but he made no further motion.</p><p>
  <em>No need to do it today, eh? What’s the rush?</em>
</p><p>His fingers slid along the cloth. He hadn’t gone to meet his informants, yesterday. There was no doubt there’d be new information waiting for him – where Jessica had gone, who she was talking to, what she was doing. There’d also be new pictures for him to add to the collage. He used to spend hours printing, cutting, and arranging until everything was perfect – just like his Jessica. Yesterday had been the first time in a long while he hadn’t regarded it.</p><p>But that had been because of the game. And only the game. Nothing else.</p><p>Kilgrave flipped aside the corner of the curtain. He reached behind it and slowly pulled out the small canvas he had stashed there this morning. It wasn’t much to look at – simple strokes of red and blue intertwining into shades of purple. In all honesty, it looked like the work of a child. And not the kind of child you hear about on the news who possesses an artistic eye far beyond their years…but the kind of child who eats paste.</p><p>But he liked the way the painting looked when he tilted it to-and-fro in the sun. And he liked the solid feel of it in his hands, although he knew full well that had little to do with the art itself. Kilgrave just <em>liked </em>the stupid thing, for some reason.</p><p>When he moved to put the canvas back behind the curtain, Kilgrave’s hand shifted to the side as if being pulled by an unseen force. He set the canvas front-and-center on the desk, adjusting it bit by bit until it sat in just the right position to catch the mid-day sun. He eyed the object in contempt for a moment before turning away.</p><p>“Bloody rubbish, anyway.”</p><p>Despite his statement, there the canvas would stay.</p>
<hr/><p>“Tell me about Jessica.”</p><p>“Fuck off.”</p><p>“Is that who you’re going to see, today?” Elise asked, leaning over the side of the armchair. She rested her chin on her folded arms as she watched Kilgrave pull ties off the rack.</p><p>“It’s none of your damn business,” Kilgrave said, exiting the walk-in closet. “Just tell me which bloody tie goes best with this suit.”</p><p>“The purple one.”</p><p>“Oh <em>‘har har,’</em> aren’t you <em>funny?” </em>Kilgrave said, his tone indicating otherwise.</p><p>Elise shrugged. Kilgrave waved his arms in frustration, ties fluttering about like streamers.</p><p>“Why do you like purple so much?” Elise said, sitting up to lean her chin into her hand. “I mean, it works for your complexion, I just wonder why you don’t wear other cool tones along with it.”</p><p>Kilgrave’s nostrils flared. He roughly tossed the ties over the back of an adjacent armchair. “Are you done? Can I bloody well get on with my business without any more questions?”</p><p>Elise sighed, eyes wandering about. “I just had one more.”</p><p>“Jesus Christ!” Kilgrave said, throwing up his hands. “What?!”</p><p>“What do other people do, when you tell them to ‘fuck off?’”</p><p>The irritation ebbed away. In fact, Kilgrave now appeared amused. “Depends,” he said. “Most of ‘em just walk away. Those who take it literally start masturbating in the middle of the bloody sidewalk.”</p><p>“Shit,” Elise said, raising her eyebrows. Her companion seemed to be having trouble meeting her gaze, but his mood had lifted, at the very least.</p><p>“I asked you about Jessica, because it has to do with which tie you should wear.” Elise hoisted herself out of the oversized armchair. She came to a stop beside Kilgrave, making herself busy as she tidied the row of ties.</p><p>Kilgrave didn’t speak right away. He studied the relaxed expression on Elise’s face, musing if this was the first time he had seen her so calm. At least standing this close to him, anyway.</p><p>“Which one should I wear if I’m not?” he asked.</p><p>“This one,” Elise said. She ran her finger over a black tie with a pattern of purple crossing lines. “Hard lines are more business appropriate.”</p><p>“And if I am?”</p><p>“I’d say wear a pattern Jessica likes,” Elise said, picking through the material. “But if you’re not sure, then this one.” Delicate fingers lifted up a tie with a purple paisley pattern. “This one’s more artsy, and comes off as casual.”</p><p>Kilgrave grasped the bottom on the tie, running his thumb over the silk. “And which one would <em>you </em>pick out for me?”</p><p>“Uh,” Elise said, eyes dancing over the options. “The pinstriped one is nice – the deep purple with the white. I like the stitch work.”</p><p>Kilgrave’s eyes lingered on the tie in question. He turned his head, yanking the paisley tie out of Elise’s loose grasp. He popped his shirt collar before draping it around his neck.</p><p>“So, you’re going to see her?” Elise said, stacking the other ties. “Lunch date or something?”</p><p>Kilgrave grunted. “Take that pinstriped tie and shove it down your throat.”</p><p>Elise’s hands froze. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again to regard Kilgrave’s turned back. A strained gagging sound escaped her lips.</p><p>Kilgrave whipped about, eyes wide in alarm. His panicked expression was met with Elise’s deadpan stare. “Waste of a good tie,” she said, tilting up her chin.</p><p>“You bitch,” Kilgrave said, eyeing her up and down to ensure that she wasn’t, in fact, going to go through with the demand.</p><p>“You’re the one who told me to eat a fucking tie,” Elise said, putting a hand on her hip. Kilgrave shrugged, turning his back to her.</p><p>“It was a joke, obviously,” he said. “Not my fault you’re too daft to get it.”</p><p>Elise rolled her eyes. “Do you still need me here?”</p><p>Kilgrave didn’t respond. He tightened his tie, running his hand over the material to flatten it against his chest. There was some contemplation behind the way his eyes darted about that Elise hadn’t expected, considering his mood.</p><p>“I was about to go out to the veranda and listen to a radio program,” he said. “You should join me.” Kilgrave strode past her, their arms almost brushing. He didn’t offer her a second glance as he left the room, heavy footfalls accompanying his departure.</p><p>
  <em>Radio program?</em>
</p><p>Elise’s brow furrowed.</p><p>
  <em>Who the hell still listens to the radio?</em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>“Hi, I’m Trish Walker, and this is Trish Talk.”</em>
</p><p>“Ah, good old Patsy,” Kilgrave said, taking a sip of merlot. He swirled the liquid, regarding the glass with a relaxed expression. “Sure you don’t want a drink?”</p><p>“I’m cutting back,” Elise said. She adjusted her sunglasses as she looked out over the cityscape.</p><p>“So responsible,” Kilgrave said, bringing the glass to his lips. “Boring, but responsible.”</p><p>“That’s me,” Elise said. She tightened the thin cardigan around her shoulders. It was mid-summer, but a brisk breeze still cut through the air and caused Elise to shiver. The large umbrella over them blocked some of it, but not by much.</p><p>
  <em>“Today my guest is an eye witness to the Prescott Accounting incident that took place almost two months ago, to this day. This show may contain graphic descriptions of violence some of you may find disturbing, so please be advised.”</em>
</p><p>Elise’s head slowly turned toward the small radio sitting on the table to her right. Kilgrave studied her from the other side, tilting his glass to-and-fro.</p><p>
  <em>“Five people were gunned down on that unassuming day in April. Three security guards – John Devon, Trevor Coleman, and Janet Andrei. Prescott’s Senior Manager, Mark DeLuca, and Senior CPA, Tara Kelvish, were also among the victims who, sadly, did not survive. My heart reaches out to their families, and I cannot express my fullest condolences for their heartbreak.”</em>
</p><p>“Thatta girl, Patsy,” Kilgrave said. “Lay it on nice and thick to bump up those numbers, eh?”</p><p>
  <em>“Among the victims is a woman by the name of Elise Stratford, who eye witnesses claim to have been abducted by the man orchestrating the Prescott massacre, only known as Kilgrave. We have been provided pictures of Elise that are now on the website, and if you or anyone you know has any information on her whereabouts, please contact the authorities immediately.”</em>
</p><p>“Ooh, I wonder if I’ll get a prize?” Kilgrave said. He chuckled, taking another sip of merlot. It was unclear if Elise had heard him, her stare fixed on the small radio as if it were the only thing that mattered in the world.</p><p>
  <em>“Today my guest is a former employee of Prescott Accounting, and a long-time friend of Elise Stratford. Please welcome to the program Penny Westcott.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Hi, Trish.”</em>
</p><p>Elise lifted a hand over her mouth.</p><p>
  <em>“Good morning, Penny. Thank you for coming on air to speak with me today.”</em>
</p><p><em>“It’s not a problem,” </em>Penny replied. Her tone was flat. It was missing the teasing annotation that used to saturate every word as if Penny couldn’t be caught dead taking life too seriously. Elise wasn’t sure she would’ve even recognized her voice if she hadn’t been introduced.</p><p><em>“What you’re doing today is very brave,” </em>Trish said. <em>“And I understand that this can be really hard for you; we can stop at any time, alright?”</em></p><p>
  <em>“Yeah, I got it. Thanks.”</em>
</p><p>Trish cleared her throat. <em>“Now Penny, you had met with the man who calls himself Kilgrave right before the incident, correct?”</em></p><p><em>“Yes, the night before,” </em>Penny affirmed. <em>“That twisted freak insisted Tara and I have dinner with him.”</em></p><p>The swirling of wine in Kilgrave’s glass stopped. Terror washed over Elise.</p><p><em>“So, the man who would later come to your place of work and be the cause of five deaths sat down with you for dinner,” </em>Trish said. <em>“Was Kilgrave an acquaintance?”</em></p><p>
  <em>“Yes.”</em>
</p><p>“What?” Kilgrave said, wide-eyed. “What the devil is she going on about?”</p><p><em>“Elise and I knew him briefly in college,” </em>Penny said, voice wavering. She wasn’t afraid, no – she was pissed. <em>“That pathetic asshole always had a thing for Elise. He never did anything crazy, so we just shrugged it off and never mentioned it. It’s been years, so the last thing I expected was for him to still be obsessed with her.”</em></p><p>“Oi, oi, oi!” Kilgrave said, slamming his palm on the table. The glass of merlot tipped, spilling wine over the metal surface before rolling away and smashing at his feet.</p><p>
  <em>“Why do you think Kilgrave had such a fascination with Elise?”</em>
</p><p>“I didn’t, you lying piece of filth!” Kilgrave said. “I’d never seen her before in my entire blasted life until the restaurant!”</p><p>
  <em>“Elise is kind, and funny. She was too sweet to tell him to fuck off, which now I wish I had done instead.”</em>
</p><p>Now Penny was lying about <em>her. </em>It wasn’t like Elise had to deal with a lot of creeps – not compared to someone who looked like Penny, anyway – but she never had an issue telling a dude to back off. What was happening?</p><p><em>“I know this is going to be hard for you, Penny,” </em>Trish said. <em>“But I think if people have a better picture of the situation, then someone might be more inclined to say something. Do you think you can tell me how you believe Kilgrave is treating Elise, right now?”</em></p><p><em>“He’s hurting her, I’m sure of it,” </em>Penny said. <em>“Elise would never, NEVER, stay with that man if she had the choice. Kilgrave is sick, and I’m sure he’s torturing her every day.”</em></p><p>“She has no idea!” Kilgrave said. He got to his feet, the metal deck chair clattering behind him. “She has no <em>fucking </em>idea! This fucking cunt is making me sound like a bloody monster!”</p><p>Kilgrave pulled out his phone, his thumbs flying over the glass.</p><p><em>“Being trapped with a mass murderer,” </em>Trish said, sighing. <em>“I can’t even imagine. A man like that preys on the hopeless so he can–”</em></p><p>Trish’s voice cut off with a dull bang. The radio host cleared her throat. <em>“Sorry, I was getting off track. Penny, is there anything more you’d like to add? Maybe a message for Elise, if she’s listening?”</em></p><p><em>“Yeah,” </em>Penny said, voice low. <em>“I don’t give a shit what I have to do, Elise. I will find you, and I’m gonna make that sick asshole pay. He’s gonna pay for what he did to Mark and Tara, and he’s gonna pay for anything he’s done to you. Wait for me, Elise; just hold on.”</em></p><p><em>“WNEX station,” </em>a feminine voice chirped. <em>“How can I direct your call?”</em></p><p>“I want to talk to Trish,” Kilgrave said, holding out his phone. “Make it snappy.”</p><p>
  <em>“Alright, I’ll transfer your call to the queue.”</em>
</p><p>Elise’s breath hitched.</p><p>
  <em>Penny.</em>
</p><p>“No!” Elise scrambled around the table. She came to a swift halt as the guards in her peripheral raised their firearms.</p><p>“Put that shit away,” Kilgrave said, waving at them. “Elise here is just going to have a little chat to set things straight.”</p><p>
  <em>What?</em>
</p><p>“What?” Elise said. Her companion smiled, leaning forward as he held the phone between them.</p><p>“Why don’t you tell little Patsy and Penny how you’re really doing, hmm? Put them at ease and all that.”</p><p>Kilgrave reached out, being careful not to touch her skin as he slid the sunglasses off Elise’s nose. His face was inches from hers, and he watched her with an amused expression.</p><p>“Tell them how you really feel, being here with me,” Kilgrave said, his smile widening. “For Penny’s sake.”</p><p>
  <em>“This is Trish Talk. Can I get your name?”</em>
</p><p>Elise shuddered; her breath choppy. She blinked rapidly as the phone was waved in her face.</p><p>“Elise.”</p><p><em>“Elise?” </em>the voice asked. <em>“Not … Elise Stratford?”</em></p><p>“Yes,” Elise said, as if the word felt clumsy on her tongue. There was a beep on the other end of the line.</p><p>
  <em>“… yes, I agree that men of this nature have a tenda–”</em>
</p><p>Trish’s cadence stopped. <em>“Hello? Hello? Did we just lose Amanda? Sorry, I think we may be having connection issues. My assistant will try to reconnect you, Amanda. But it looks like we have our next caller. Can you introduce yourself?”</em></p><p>Elise swallowed, staring into feverish brown eyes. “This is Elise.”</p><p>The statement was met with the sound of something clattering.</p><p><em>“Elise?!” </em>Penny said. <em>“Elise, oh my God! Oh my God, Elise, are you OK?!”</em></p><p>A tear rolled down Elise’s cheek. “I’m OK, Penny. I’m fine.”</p><p><em>“Oh my God, Elise – Jesus,” </em>Penny said, her voice breaking. <em>“Oh my God, you’re alive. Oh, thank you, God. Elise, where are you, baby? I’ll come and get you.”</em></p><p>“Don’t,” Elise said, fighting to keep her voice steady. “I’m alright, Penny, I promise.”</p><p>“You’re more than that,” Kilgrave said, leaning into her ear.</p><p><em>“What was that?” </em>Penny said, her voice rising. <em>“Was that him? Tell that bastard to go fuck himself, Elise! I know you can do that! I know he can’t control you!”</em></p><p>“Tell her what you told me, Elise,” Kilgrave cooed. “Tell her what you said we are.”</p><p>Elise closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “He’s my friend, Penny.” Her voice broke, but it was quickly corrected. “He hasn’t laid a finger on me; he’s been kind.”</p><p><em>“Bullshit!” </em>Penny said, her volume fighting over a mechanical whine from the microphone. <em>“Don’t fucking defend him, Elise! I know full well why he hasn’t laid a finger on you, and it has nothing to do with that fucking asshole being kind! Tell me where you are!”</em></p><p>“Penny,” Elise said, a firmness creeping into her voice. Fear had laced itself over her heart, squeezing. “I think you should apologize.”</p><p>
  <em>“No, I don’t think she should.”</em>
</p><p>Kilgrave nearly dropped the phone. His eyes widened, staring at it as if he’s never seen such a device before. “Jessica?”</p><p><em>“Listen up,” </em>Jessica’s voice said. <em>“Whatever game you’re trying to play, it’s worked, OK? If you shacking up with another woman was a ploy to make me jealous, then you succeeded with flying colors. Once you send Elise home, I’m all yours.”</em></p><p>Kilgrave ran his free hand over his face, eyes darting about. He brought his attention back to the phone in his shaking palm.</p><p>“You’re lying,” he said with a hint of something hoping that he may be wrong.</p><p>
  <em>“Only one way to find out.”</em>
</p><p>Kilgrave slowly raised his eyes to Elise. She was staring at the phone as if it were the casket of a loved one being lowered into a grave.</p><p>“Don’t…” Kilgrave said, uncertain. “Don’t make a face like that.”</p><p>If Elise heard him, she didn’t make it known. Kilgrave cursed and swiped his thumb along the screen to end the call. He tossed the phone aside, the object sliding over the table before clattering against the small radio.</p><p><em>“Elise?” </em>Penny’s voice said. <em>“Elise, you st–”</em></p><p>Kilgrave picked up the radio, chucking it with a shout. The object sailed through the air and disappeared over the side of the veranda.</p><p>“We’re going out for dinner,” Kilgrave said, turning away. “Be ready by seven – put on something nice.”</p><p>Kilgrave stormed into the house, the door shuddering as it slammed behind him. For a moment, the veranda was still. A car alarm was going off somewhere, like a reminder that there was more out there than the penthouse and the world revolving around its owner. But like everything else that ever made it all the way to the top floor, the sound was detached, and did little to make the rooftop occupants feel less isolated.</p><p>One man took a step, then another. They pretended not to notice the pained sound escaping Elise, or appear concerned when she fell to her knees and brought her forehead to the tile. Her sobbing was swallowed up by the breeze and dissipated before it could reach the ears of anyone other than the one guard who remained. The man did an admirable job of keeping his face expressionless as she wept.</p>
<hr/><p>“What the hell happened there?” Jessica asked, glancing out the window.</p><p>“Dunno, looks like something fell from one of the upper floors of that building,” Trish said, squinting. The pair of women stood in Trish’s apartment, regarding the car across the street sporting a dented hood. The car must’ve been there, earlier, but it looked like its owner had finally returned. A woman was shouting into her phone, gesticulating as what appeared to be a doorman tried to calm her down.</p><p>“Someone chuck something off the roof?” Jessica said, raising a brow.</p><p>“Who knows?” Trish said, turning away. “Maybe.”</p><p>“Fuckin’ assholes,” Jessica said. She crossed the room, roughly sitting down on the ottoman.</p><p>Trish entered the kitchen, pouring hot water from the electric kettle into two mugs. “You think Kilgrave will bite?”</p><p>“At one of the lines,” Jessica said.</p><p>“Good,” Trish said. She exited the kitchen, a mug in each hand. “How long do you think it’ll be?”</p><p>“Kilgrave’s an impatient bastard,” Jessica said, accepting the tea. “My guess is he’ll either show up at Penny’s or my place by tomorrow.” Jessica drummed her fingers along the side of the cup. “Goes without saying I want you steering clear of my place.”</p><p>“Jessica–”</p><p>“Trish, I mean it,” Jessica said. Her eyes bore into Trish until her companion dropped her gaze.</p><p>“Fine,” Trish said, taking a sip of tea. She cursed softly as the liquid burned her tongue.</p><p>“I think Penny’s story got him riled up,” Jessica said, looking out the window. “Now he’s being painted everywhere as a psychotic pervert. I mean, it’s <em>true, </em>but now there are people other than me saying it.”</p><p>“You don’t think he’ll go after them?” Trish said. There was something feverish behind Jessica’s gaze, causing worry to squirm in her gut. “The journalists and talk show hosts?”</p><p>“Everyone is dragging him through the mud,” Jessica said, helping herself to some tea. “He’s smart enough to know he can’t take down an entire city’s worth of media unless he wants to grab the attention of some heavy hitters he’d rather avoid. You got any schnapps or something for this?”</p><p>“No, Jess,” Trish said, regarding her in contempt.</p><p>Jessica shrugged. “Thought I’d ask.”</p><p>Trish sighed. She shook her head, taking a seat on the couch. “So, he’ll go after you or Penny,” she said. “And Penny’s under surveillance?”</p><p>“<em>Heavy </em>surveillance, if Detective Costa is doing his job,” Jessica said. She moved herself to the recliner and made herself comfortable. “It’ll be a shit-show if Kilgrave shows up, but there should be some warning. Penny’s got a panic button that goes straight to me, and she had the smart idea of wearing those noise-cancelling headphones around the house.”</p><p>“Will that work?”</p><p>“No clue,” Jessica said. She put her feet up on the ottoman, knowing it drove Trish crazy when she did so while wearing her boots, but also being firmly aware she could get away with it. “But I gotta let the woman try.”</p><p>“It’s admirable, what she’s doing,” Trish said, eyeing Jessica’s shoes before looking away. “She’s putting her life on the line for Elise. I can only hope it pays off.”</p><p>“It’s stupid, is what it is,” Jessica said. She was leveled with a steady glare. “Stupid,” Jessica repeated. “But I’d do the same if it was you.”</p><p>Trish’s features relaxed. She set aside her tea, her eyes darting between Jessica and her hands as she laced her fingers. “Were you able to get the drugs to knock him out?”</p><p>Jessica made an affirmative sound as she took a sip of tea.</p><p>“And the gun?”</p><p>Jessica drew the cup away from her lips. She regarded the steaming tea and the smudge of red lipstick left behind, her fingers tightening their hold. She had to catch herself before the drink exploded in her grasp.</p><p>“Yeah, I got the gun.”</p><p>
  <em>Lying is a sin. Guess it’s a good thing I know I’m going to Hell, anyway.</em>
</p><p>“Jess,” Trish said, her voice growing soft. “I know how you feel about this, but I need to know you’ll protect yourself. If it comes down to it –”</p><p>“I’ll kill again,” Jessica said in contempt. “I’m already a murderer, so that shit doesn’t matter – not like I’ll be a double murderer.”</p><p>Trish snapped to attention. “You’re not a killer, Jess! Kilgrave is the one who murdered that woman, not you.”</p><p>“Well I sure as hell don’t feel that way!” Jessica said, eyes wide. “And if I go out there and shoot Kilgrave, then I will really be a murderer, won’t I? Even if the prick deserves it, he’s still making me become something just as fucked up as he is.”</p><p>The look of pity Trish was giving her ignited a feeling of irritation deep in Jessica’s gut. She looked away, rocking in her seat as her eyes danced about.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Trish whispered. “Jess, I shouldn’t’ve assumed –”</p><p>“How about we drop this sparkling topic of conversation?” Jessica said.</p><p>Trish eyed Jessica up and down with a worried expression. “Sure, sorry.”</p><p>They fell into an uncomfortable silence. Jessica’s attention returned to the window, while her sister continued to watch her with a glum expression. After a while, Trish had lowered her eyes, frowning at her tea as if it had insulted her. “The way that poor woman sounded on the air, earlier … Jesus, Jess – she was terrified.”</p><p>“I know,” Jessica said, fidgeting. “Thank fuck for that.”</p><p>“What?” Trish said, eyes shooting up. “What do you mean?”</p><p>“It’s when you get comfortable,” Jessica said, meeting her gaze. “When you <em>stop </em>being terrified is when you have a problem.”</p><p>Now it was Trish who couldn’t hold their gaze. The pain behind Jessica’s eyes was too much, and she used taking a sip of tea as an excuse to look away.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The restaurant was, unsurprisingly, in a discrete location. It was the sort of place persons of a certain status entered through an unmarked door, down a dimly-lit set of stairs, and around a doorman who seemed to know precisely who was and wasn't allowed inside. Elise knew this because Kilgrave and herself were clearly grouped in with the latter, until suddenly they weren't.</p><p>Elise was also aware that this was the sort of place where one would put their faith in the accomplished chef; being treated to multiple courses of his own design that had taken years to craft and perfect. She knew this because this was the argument the waiter made when Kilgrave put in an order for Bucatini all'Amatriciana. His request was rebuked…until it wasn't.</p><p>When it came time for her to order, Elise politely declined. Kilgrave took it upon himself to order her a salad, which she watched wilt as Kilgrave ate his meal without a care. He seemed completely unperturbed that his date hadn't spoken a word; a content smile on his face as he twirled pasta around his fork and made off-hand comments about the minimalist decor and the soft piano music. A bottle of champagne sat between them, the full glass before Elise sporting trails of condensation that remained undisturbed.</p><p>"Well, Elise, we can both agree I've been incredibly patient," Kilgrave said, his eyes tracking the chocolate torte being set before him. "I wanted to make sure you've had plenty of time to mull over whatever it is that's got your knickers in a bunch."</p><p>Elise stared at his dessert, wondering how it would look if she smashed it under her fist.</p><p>"What would you do if you were me, Elise?"</p><p>Blue eyes slowly tracked up to meet Kilgrave's steady gaze. They lingered for a moment on the pinstriped tie before locking on his face. "I would settle for second place.”</p><p>Her date found this amusing. He leaned back in his seat with a chuckle. "I don't settle, Elise. I always get exactly what I want."</p><p>"Except for Jessica.”</p><p>Kilgrave's smile wavered. "Who said I can't have her?"</p><p>"She did," Elise said, as if it were obvious.</p><p>“We must’ve been listening to different radio programs.” The small fork sliced through the tort. Kilgrave made an attempt at seeming nonchalant as he took a bite. "I believe Jessica said quite the opposite, actually.”</p><p>"You're not that stupid."</p><p>The smile ebbed from Kilgrave's face. He drummed his fingers on the table in contemplation. "Once the serum is complete," he said, failing to keep the doubt from his voice. "Then she'll see reason."</p><p>"You'll never have her," Elise said, lowering her eyes. "You know ordering her to be with you isn't really having her; you've always known that."</p><p>"Don't tell me what I bloody do and don't know," Kilgrave said, his voice a low hiss.</p><p>"I'll tell you whatever I want," Elise said, staring at the half-finished torte. "Because I can, and it's the only thing you can't take from me."</p><p>Elise flinched as Kilgrave slammed his hand down.</p><p>"Look at me," Kilgrave said. His companion set her jaw and kept her eyes lowered.</p><p>"LOOK AT ME, ELISE!"</p><p>Elise's chin quivered, her eyes remaining fixed on the table.</p><p>"You will fucking look at me!" A napkin was plucked up with a flourish, and Kilgrave used it as a barrier to roughly grasp Elise by the jaw. He tilted Elise's face up until their eyes met. </p><p>"You will fucking look at me," Kilgrave repeated, voice low, "when I tell you you're going to <em>choose</em> to stay with me."</p><p>Kilgrave released her, pink splotches lining Elise’s cheeks.</p><p>"I'm going to stay with you," Elise said, watching Kilgrave as he seated himself, "because I don't want anyone else to die."</p><p>"No," Kilgrave said, brow furrowing. "No, no, no; that's not the reason I want you to stay."</p><p>Elise narrowed her eyes. "Guess you'll just have to settle."</p><p>Kilgrave brought his hands together, leaning into them as if praying. "I don't want to hurt you, Elise. That isn't who I am."</p><p>"You tried to have me shot.”</p><p>"Before," Kilgrave said, offended. "Before I knew you."</p><p>"It still counts."</p><p>"I'm not a bad person!" Kilgrave said, throwing up his hands. "I don't want people to die! I'm not a sicko who gets off on that…that crap! If anyone gets hurt, it's because they did something to deserve it!"</p><p>"Like Mark?" Elise said, voice rising. "Like Tara? What the fuck did they do to you?!"</p><p>“Who?” Kilgrave asked. A sound between a gasp and a laugh escaped Elise’s lips as she shook her head in disbelief. Something clicked, Kilgrave rolling his eyes.</p><p>"That was accidental!" he said. "I didn't go in to your work thinking I'd hurt anyone!'</p><p>"Except for having Tara bring in a goddamn fucking gun!" Elise said, deciding that it was her turn to slam the table.</p><p>"Don't raise your voice at me, you ungrateful bitch!" Kilgrave said. "The only reason you're still here is because of my generosity! I could've had you killed the second I got your DNA…" Kilgrave leaned forward, forcing his next words out in a low hiss. “The very ... bloody ... second. And what have you shown me for it, hmm? Nothing. There is no goddamn reason for me to keep you alive."</p><p>Elise nodded as if in agreement. "Fine.”</p><p>Kilgrave's enraged stare shifted. "Fine?"</p><p>"I'm tired," Elise said. A tear intermingled with mascara slid down her cheek, leaving a grey streak. "I'm tired of waking up every morning and remembering all this is real. I'm tired of wondering every day if I'll even be alive by the end of it. And I'm so, so tired of going to bed and wondering how many more days of this I'll have to endure."</p><p>Elise sobbed, covering her face with her hands.</p><p>"Jesus Christ," Kilgrave said, leaning away. "We're in public – don't make a bloody scene."</p><p>Apparently, the screaming match a moment ago had slipped his mind. It didn't, however, slip the mind of the dishwasher who happened to be outside having a smoke while Kilgrave had informed everyone else in the cozy establishment to leave them be.</p><p>"Elise," Kilgrave said. His companion didn't look up, her shoulders shaking in racking sobs. He sighed, running a hand over his face. "Would you just –”</p><p>There was a muffled bang. Kilgrave's head snapped up – he stared through the gap partially hiding the front door from view. There was some stifled shouting, another dull bang, and the front door burst open as the doorman fell inward, his head hitting the floor with a sickening crack.</p><p>"NYPD! Everyone on the ground, hands behind your head!"</p><p>"Shit," Kilgrave said. He put his hands up, slowly sliding out of his seat. He grumbled something about his dress slacks before raising his eyes; brows furrowed as he regarded Elise. "Get over here, you nitwit."</p><p>Elise had drawn her hands away. Grey stripes accented her cheeks, giving her a ghoulish appearance as she stared at the approaching police officers.</p><p>"El–"</p><p>Elise bolted. One of the officers let out a shout as he raised his gun. A frantic cry from Kilgrave suddenly cut through the air.</p><p>"EVERYONE FREEZE!"</p><p>Elise slammed into one of the officers, doing little more than knocking his hat loose. She cried out in frustration, shoving the man who only stared ahead as if he were made of stone.</p><p>Kilgrave jogged after her. "Elise!"</p><p>"Shoot me!" Elise said, running up to the other frozen officer. She opened her arms, pleading. "SHOOT ME!"</p><p>Elise was dragged away. She struggled, but was unable to break free as her arms were pinned to her side. Something clicked, and she grew still as her brain caught up to what was happening.</p><p>"You're not going to die," Kilgrave said, tightening his hold on her. "No one is going to die. I'm not going to do that anymore, Elise, do you hear me? That's what you want, yeah?"</p><p>Elise’s answer was drowned out by a sudden shout.</p><p>"Get on the ground! Get down, now!"</p><p>Kilgrave backed away. He held Elise's gaze as he slowly raised his arms.</p><p>“Won’t do me any good telling you to turn around and leave, would it, officer?” Kilgrave said. His answer came in the form of the officer barking at him to get down.</p><p>Kilgrave put his hands behind his head. When Elise made no motion to do the same, his expression grew panicked.</p><p>
  <em>'Please'</em>
</p><p>Kilgrave mouthed the word, his eyes dancing over her features in desperation. Blank, blue eyes stayed locked with his as he slowly lowered himself to his knees.</p><p>"Hands on your head! Get down!"</p><p>
  <em>'I'm sorry'</em>
</p><p>Elise's breath hitched. She slowly turned her head, regarding the police officer in a way that seemed more primal than human. The broad-shouldered man looked back at her with an anxious expression.</p><p>"Ma'am, I'm not telling you again!" he said. "I don’t want to shoot you! Get down on your knees, hands behind your head!"</p><p>Elise's hands twitched. Whatever she was about to do was interrupted as the banister above her head exploded in a shower of splinters. Gunfire raged through the restaurant as Kilgrave grabbed her by the arm and yanked her to the floor.</p><p>The police officers ducked, covering their heads to shield themselves from the debris. Shouts rang through the air as a flurry of diners and wait staff rushed the front door. The shots appeared to be coming from the rear toward the kitchen, which was confirmed when Elise turned her head to see two men firing at the ceiling. The swinging door to the kitchen opened with a bang. A large man stepped forward holding a gun to the head of a terrified man in a chef’s jacket.</p><p>The sound of gunfire ceased as the large man spoke. “Drop your weapons!”</p><p>The officers exchanged a glance. The policeman with the broad shoulders gave a slow nod and they both lowered themselves to the floor. Their guns were placed down near their feet before the two men raised their hands in a placating manner.</p><p>“We’ll do what you want,” the broad-shouldered officer said. “Just don’t hurt these people. If you need anyone to keep hostage, take us. Let these people get to safety.”</p><p>The officer’s eyes had moved to Elise during the last statement. She kept her eyes locked with his, shallow breaths causing her chest to rise and fall in rapid succession. Their gaze was broken when Kilgrave strengthened his grip on her arm and dragged Elise to her feet. He pulled her along as they approached the large man with the gun.</p><p>“Stay on your knees!” the officers shouted, panic lacing their voices. Their warning was ignored entirely as Kilgrave strode forward with purpose.</p><p>"Sir,” the large man said, nodding, “the car is out the back."</p><p>Kilgrave hardly spared the man a second glance as he strolled past him. “You bloody well better keep them off our backs.”</p><p>The door to the kitchen slammed open against Kilgrave’s palm. There were two more armed men there, along with three men and women in chef jackets cowering in a corner. Kilgrave paid them no mind as he entered a door indicated by one of the guards, going up a narrow set of steps without impediment. They were waved into a large, black car, which immediately peeled out of a back ally and forced its way into traffic in a chorus of honks.</p><p>Kilgrave ran a hand over his face, his chest heaving. "Bloody hell."</p><p>His gaze wandered to Elise, finally settling on the hand he had wrapped around her wrist.</p><p>"You're a bloody whackjob, you know that?" Kilgrave said, pulling away. "You almost got us killed. Goddamn psycho you are, that."</p><p>Elise was staring out the window. She was leveled with a dubious expression for a moment before Kilgrave turned away to regard the sights passing by in a blur. He watched with an indifferent expression as a fleet of police cars went screaming by, going the opposite direction.</p><p>The remainder of the journey to the penthouse was in silence. The car dropped them off a few blocks away; Kilgrave donning a baseball cap while Elise was given a wide-brimmed hat. No one said a word to either of them as they walked to the gleaming building and were met by guards at the ground floor. A few minutes later, the doors of the pristine golden elevator opened with a cheerful ding, and the group stepped onto the top floor.</p><p>“Sir, we stopped reading vitals for Albatross,” said the blonde guard waiting for them. “Crane’s tracker was damaged, so he’s currently MIA. Immediate relocation may be necessary if he’s been taken into custody.”</p><p>The wide-brimmed hat was abandoned halfway down the hall. Kilgrave watched Elise slowly retreat – her silhouette a dark cutout against the dim lights. </p><p>“Sir?”</p><p>Elise dragged a hand along the smooth wall as support against the limp to her step. A few more heavy footfalls led her to the door of the studio, and she slipped inside without a backward glance.</p><p>“Sir?”</p><p>The door to the studio closed with a click. Kilgrave clenched his jaw, the muscles in his neck twitching.</p><p>“Yeah, alright,” Kilgrave said, looking back to the guard. “Give me all that again. ‘Cept the part about the moving – I don’t want to bloody move: shit’s a pain in the ass.”</p><p>The guard’s rebuttal to the subject followed after Kilgrave as he stepped down the hall. The hat was scooped up, and Kilgrave studied it for a moment as he ran his fingers along the brim. He turned, taking the hat with him as he made his way back to the group of waiting guards.</p><hr/><p>“Come on, you’ll feel better.”</p><p>Elise mumbled something inaudible. Anton came up behind her, lifting her arms. He let them drop on the counter, a cloud of flour blooming over Elise’s apron.</p><p>“Let out all your frustration on the dough,” Anton said, giving her shoulder a pat. “Don’t worry about over-kneading, I’ll keep an eye out for that.”</p><p>Elise lifted her hands. She stared at the white powder, her mind sluggishly tracing the wrinkles along her palms.</p><p>“If you need more flour, it’ll be in the cupboard,” Anton said. His gaze rested on Elise for a moment before turning his back to her. He began to pluck cherry tomatoes out of a colander at his side, slicing them in half in quick, precise strokes.</p><p>Kneading the dough was a similar sensation to throwing a punch in a dream – the impact was there, but it was much duller than one would expect. Muscle memory eventually kicked in, and after a few minutes, Elise was handling an object that was quickly starting to smell and resemble something edible. She couldn’t say she was letting any frustration out, though, since she couldn’t seem to muster up the willingness to do so.</p><p>Elise had been in a daze for over a week. She slept until late morning, dragged herself to the restroom, then would return to bed until nature called again a few hours later. She was provided sandwiches and bowls of soup as if she were an eight-year-old with a cold; the trays of food materializing on her vanity via an unseen force during her slumber. That was how things had been, until today – everyone else in the penthouse may as well have been a ghost for all Elise was concerned. But today, one of the guards told her to get dressed and come to the kitchen. Elise would’ve been surprised to see Kilgrave wasn’t in, had she been able to muster up said emotion. Instead, she watched with a glazed expression as Anton thanked the guard and guided Elise over to one of the gleaming marble counter tops.</p><p>The dough was sticking to her hands, leaving goopy residue behind. Elise did her best to remove the more stubborn clumps before shifting her attention to the pantry. She opened up the doors, her eyes wandering over the jars and containers inside before landing on the red bag of flour. She pulled out the bag, but not before something else in a cheery orange container caught her attention.</p><p>Elise set the bag down, tentatively reaching back into the cupboard. She pulled out the small medication bottle, her brow furrowing as she read the label.</p><p>
  <em>Clonazepam</em>
</p><p>Her eyes darted up. There were three other medication bottles clustered together on the shelf. Elise roughly picked one up.</p><p>
  <em>Alprazolam</em>
</p><p>Elise had been friends with enough rich, stressed lawyers to know Xanax when she saw it. Her grip on the bottle tightened, her hand shaking.</p><p>“Thank you,” Elise said.</p><p>“Don’t thank me for anything,” Anton said, keeping his back turned. The statement was said more out of a warning than it was humility – there was some loophole Anton was exploiting, and being forced to acknowledge it could lead to his hand suddenly deciding that he should be chopping up his fingers instead of the tomatoes.</p><p>Elise snatched the remaining pill containers off the shelf. She looked over the counter, locking eyes with the guard watching her from the living room.</p><p>“You have permission to bring anything from the kitchen back to your room as long as it cannot be used as a weapon,” the man said. The corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. Elise didn’t know his name – or his code name, if being precise – but she was pretty sure he was the guard who stayed behind with her on the veranda after the radio program. He hadn’t said anything to her, nor did he try to move her as she curled up on the patio and bawled. But he did bring her a glass of water, and made adjustments to the umbrella to make sure she stayed in the shade.</p><p>Elise took a shuddering breath, her eyes growing dewy. “Thank you. Um …?”</p><p>“Tern.”</p><p>“Thank you, Tern.” Elise nodded, exiting the kitchen. “Tell Kilgrave I’d like to speak with him when he gets back.”</p><hr/><p>“Well, look who’s returned to the land of the living!” Kilgrave said, clapping his hands as Elise entered the living room.</p><p>“Can I speak to you alone?” Elise said, adjusting the navy jacket around her shoulders.</p><p>Kilgrave snapped his fingers. “Everyone out to the veranda.”</p><p>Anton had been in the middle of tossing diced onions in a pan, not bothering to turn off the burner as he swiftly stepped away. Kilgrave had to bark at him to do so before the chef was the last of the staff to exit the large, glass doors.</p><p>“Had yourself a nice little holiday, yeah?” Kilgrave asked, beaming. The smile fell away as Elise pulled something from her jacket and chucked it at his head.</p><p>“Oi!”</p><p>Kilgrave ducked. The small object missed his face, but something else smacked him in the arm.</p><p>“What are you – Stop that! Ah, fuck! That was my knee you goddamn–”</p><p>“You drugged me?!” Elise threw the final bottle. It smacked Kilgrave squarely in the stomach, and he watched it roll away making a rattling sound like a maraca.</p><p>Kilgrave’s eyes rose to meet hers. “How’d you find out?”</p><p>“Is this any better?!” Elise said. She bent down to scoop up the bottle of alprazolam which had rolled by her feet. Kilgrave flinched as she raised it up. “Is drugging me into submission supposed to be any better than ordering me to do what you want?!”</p><p>Kilgrave scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I was just trying to help you relax! You were so worked up; you were a hazard to yourself! You just needed a little time to calm down and get less…<em>suicide-y.”</em></p><p>“What is wrong with you?!” Elise said, tossing the last pill bottle aside. “How can you…? Why can’t you not…?”</p><p>“I didn’t–!” Kilgrave made a frustrated sound. “Stop being angry, now!”</p><p>“Oh!" Elise's mock laughter was paired with a dismissive wave. "Is that how you normally solve shit like this? You are <em>so </em>fucked up!”</p><p>Kilgrave bared his teeth. “You don’t–!”</p><p>The remainder of the statement stopped as if the words had been stolen away. Kilgrave seemed enraged over the fact as he stared daggers at Elise. It was expected that his mood would only spiral downward as their stare lingered, but a swift inhale led to his shoulders slumping. This caused Elise to lean back, her expression turning cautious.</p><p>“There is something wrong with me,” Kilgrave said. He ran his hand over his tie, fingers gliding over the pattern of deep purple with green triangles. They lingered there for a beat before his hands dropped to his side. “I just don’t care, Elise. I never gave a shit about most of the people I met. They were all just sodding twats to be used to give me whatever I wanted. And I never gave a damn about how they felt when they were doing it – I still don’t. But Jessica was close. With Jessica, I thought I had <em>earned </em>the way she used to look at me, but …”</p><p>Kilgrave let out a weak chuckle. “You're right; I’m not that daft. I was going to force her to be with me, and I’d be satisfied not because she really loved me, but because I had won. Winning against Jessica was all that mattered. I had never lost in anything, Elise, not once.”</p><p>Kilgrave took a step forward. This caused Elise to back away in trepidation.</p><p>“I’m losing right now, you know,” Kilgrave said. He kicked aside a pill bottle, the object bouncing under the coffee table. “I’m losing, but I don’t give a damn. I’m willing to lose, if it means having someone actually <em>choose</em> to stay with me.”</p><p>Kilgrave stopped. He opened his arms in a defeated motion. “No one ever chooses to stay,” he said, smile wavering. “Not Jessica – not even my parents. You’re all I have, Elise. You’re the only person who can really, <em>truly, </em>choose to stay. And I’m willing to do anything to make that happen. Whatever you want, as long as you don’t go; as long as you remain here.”</p><p>Elise eyed KIlgrave up and down. There was <em>something. </em>There <em>had</em> to be something<em>. </em>There had to be some sort of catch. “How can I believe you?”</p><p>Kilgrave cleared his throat, shaking his head. “You’ll just have to keep an eye on me, I suppose. The two of us can work side-by-side, bettering the world or whatever nonsense you’d been spouting before.”</p><p>This did little to clear things up. “What?” Elise said. “What are you talking about?”</p><p>“It’s like what you said before, yeah?” Kilgrave said, waving his arms as if that would help materialize the memory. “All that rubbish about using my ability to help people. We’ll be a dynamic duo, you and me. And who knows? Maybe I’ll learn to enjoy it – I’ve been surprised before. Didn’t think I’d like stone massage, for example – bloody stupid sounding concept, really. But you know what? I actually found myself quite enjoying it after giving it a go. We shou–”</p><p>“No more killing people,” Elise said. Kilgrave didn’t seem pleased by the interruption.</p><p>“I already told you that,” he spat.</p><p>“And no more telling people what to do,” Elise said, picking up steam. “Not unless you’re trying to help.”</p><p>A puff of air escaped Kilgrave’s nose. “That’s a bloody–”</p><p>“No more telling people what to do,” Elise repeated. She lifted her chin, staring Kilgrave down. The object of her attention regarded her in disbelief. He eventually broke their gaze with a weak wave in acknowledgement.</p><p>“And <em>that,” </em>Elise said, indicating the pill bottles. “If you do <em>anything </em>like that again–”</p><p>“I won’t,” Kilgrave said. He lifted his palms with an innocent expression. “I swear to you, I won’t.”</p><p>Elise scowled, looking him up and down. “And you have to get a job.”</p><p>Kilgrave’s demeanor immediately shifted. “Aw, come on, really?” he said, sounding far more like a whiny teenager being told the fact than a middle-aged man.</p><p>Elise scoffed. “You have to earn money that isn’t stealing from people!”</p><p>“I don’t <em>steal,” </em>Kilgrave said, drawing out the last word. “Everyone gives me their money quite willingly.”</p><p>“In exchange for what?” Elise said. Her tone caused a deep frown to settle over Kilgrave’s face.</p><p>“Well, I dunno, I’m sure it makes them feel good doing it … Being a good Samaritan, and all that.”</p><p>“That’s bullshit, and you know it,” Elise said, pointing at him to drive home every word.</p><p>“How am I supposed to know how they feel?” Kilgrave asked, offended. “I tell people what to do – I’m not a bloody mind reader.”</p><p>“It’s called <em>‘empathy,’” </em>Elise said. She turned, walking toward the hallway. “I need some time to think.”</p><p>“Elise!”</p><p>Elise didn’t look back, disappearing around the corner. She was followed by a groan as Kilgrave ran a hand over his face. His eyes lingered on the pill bottles around his feet, his expression hardening.</p><hr/><p>
  <em>Sometimes the universe throws the unexpected your way. It makes you ponder about what we know, and especially what we don’t. And in this case, the universe threw me a doozy of a question: </em>
</p><p>
  <em>What in the flying fuck is happening?</em>
</p><p>Jessica leaned toward the screen. She squinted at the grainy security footage illuminating her pale face against the darkness.</p><p>“Why the hell is this so low quality? Can you guys seriously not afford better cameras?”</p><p>“Nope,” Detective Costa said, keeping his eyes on the monitor. “And if you’re done complaining about our budget, you can watch.”</p><p>The footage showed a man chained to a metal table in one of the interrogation rooms. He had a broad build, dark completion, and long hair pleated down his back. He looked about with a skittish expression as the door opened.</p><p>“What the fuck?”</p><p>It wasn’t a great angle, since the camera mostly just got the backs of their heads, but Jessica immediately recognized one of the figures entering the room as Kilgrave. He pulled out a chair for his companion before taking a seat. The woman settling down next to him looked around, shooting the camera a nervous expression.</p><p>“Elise Stratford,” Jessica said, shocked.</p><p>“One and the same,” Costa said.</p><p>Jessica had arrived late to the scene at the restaurant just over two weeks ago. She had been able to piece together a decent picture of Kilgrave and Elise’s falling out, topped with the fact that Elise had apparently made an attempt at suicide-by-cop.</p><p>Jessica had immediately gone to Luke’s bar and got herself so wasted she couldn’t see straight, much less make it back home. Luke had been kind enough to let her crash at his place while she slept off the despair of assuming that Elise Stratford was likely no more than a bloodstain on a carpet or a pile of jelly beneath a train. If the woman was so desperate to die, so desperate to get away from Kilgrave, then surely this would’ve pissed Kilgrave off enough to grant her wish.</p><p>But then Jessica got a call from Detective Costa, and she now stood, in complete disbelief, watching as Kilgrave and Elise questioned a man being held without bail on suspicion of murdering his ex-wife and daughter.</p><p><em>“Alright, so,” </em>Kilgrave’s voice said. He sounded bored, the fingers impatiently drumming over the metal table driving home this fact. <em>“Did you kill your family? Tell the truth, now.”</em></p><p><em>“No,” </em>the man said. He seemed able to know, for certain, that Kilgrave was aware he wasn’t lying. He leaned forward in his seat, pleading. <em>“No, no! I swear to God, man! I didn’t kill them!”</em></p><p><em>“Do you know where they are?” </em>Elise said.</p><p><em>“Answer all of her questions truthfully,” </em>Kilgrave quickly added.</p><p><em>“Her aunt’s house in Albany, maybe,” </em>the man said. <em>“Katie was getting into some deep shit. Cocaine, pills. Moving them, you know? I never told anyone cuz Samantha was always with her mom, and if there was a raid or some shit, I didn’t want her getting hurt.”</em></p><p><em>“Ooh, dad of the year,” </em>Kilgrave said. <em>“Didn’t turn in his drug-dealing wife, yet didn’t see a problem with his kid hanging ‘round junkies day after day; someone give this man a medal.”</em></p><p>Elise hissed something.</p><p><em>“Sorry! Scratch that,” </em>Kilgrave said, looking back the camera. <em>“No one give this man a medal.”</em></p><p><em>“Please tell us the address of where you think your ex-wife may have taken your daughter,” </em>Elise said, using a kind tone. The man obliged, reciting the address in a robotic manner.</p><p><em>“We’re not seriously going to Albany, are we?” </em>Kilgrave said, mirroring Elise as she rose to her feet. “<em>That’s all the way out in the podunks, innit?”</em></p><p><em>“No, the police can follow up,” </em>Elise said. Her eyes lingered on the camera for a heartbeat before she turned and left the room, Kilgrave on her heels.</p><p>“We let the suspect go, after that,” Costa said, leaning back in his seat. “Kilgrave ordered us to.”</p><p>“And there were others, you said?” Jessica said, her head still spinning.</p><p>“Yeah, they questioned every one of the guys we had here being held on suspicion of violent crimes,” Costa said. He reached out, patting a stack of folders at his side. “We got twenty-two confessions of guilt, and eight statements where the suspect claimed to be covering for someone, or we nabbed the wrong guy. Kilgrave had us let all those guys walk, too.”</p><p>“The one’s covering for someone else still committed a crime,” Jessica said, crossing her arms.</p><p>“Well, they didn’t seem to care,” Costa said, leaning back in his seat. He laced his fingers, watching Jessica with a neutral expression. “What do you think about these new developments?”</p><p>“That it’s crazy,” Jessica said. She began to pace, running a hand through dark hair. “Kilgrave is playing nice, but Kilgrave doesn’t <em>do </em>nice. For whatever reason he wants Elise alive, and it looks like this may be some compromise to keep her complacent.”</p><p>“Well,” Costa said, looking back to the monitors. Footage of another interrogation was playing, a woman speaking in a deadpan tone as she confessed to beating her boyfriend within an inch of his life using a metal bat. “If it’s between this and more people shooting themselves in the face, I’d rather have this.”</p><p>Jessica scoffed. “Don’t be an idiot. This is only temporary; I can guarantee it. Kilgrave is a selfish asshole who will only go through the motions until he has enough control over Elise to go back to doing whatever the hell he wants; this doesn’t let him off the hook.”</p><p>“Absolutely,” Costa agreed. “We have him pinned for the Prescott incident, and there are plenty of guys here chomping at the bit to try and get him convicted for Detective Clemons’ death. This guy isn’t getting off for good behavior by any means. But …”</p><p>Costa shifted in his chair as Jessica hit him with an annoyed glare.</p><p>“But Ms. Stratford … if she’s going around helping Kilgrave of her own free will …”</p><p>“It’s Stockholm syndrome!” Jessica said, incredulous. “That’s like, fucking <em>textbook</em> style Stockholm syndrome! You can’t blame her for that!”</p><p>“Depending on what she does,” Costa said, lifting a finger. “This was only one incident. But if things go on for much longer, and we get glimpses of Ms. Stratford walking around on her own and doing as she pleases, then it becomes much harder for the court of law to paint her as a victim.”</p><p>“That’s bullshit!” Jessica slammed her fist against the wall, the concrete beneath her hand crumbling into a small pile. “That’s absolute bullshit! You don’t have to have special powers to brainwash someone; to twist their thoughts around so badly that they’re no longer themselves!”</p><p>“I’m aware, Jones,” Costa said. “And before you do anymore damage to my wall, I want to add that I’m only pointing this out to drive home the fact that we need to solve this quickly.”</p><p>Jessica let out a frustrated sound. She took a deep breath, flexing her fingers as she calmed herself.</p><p>“I take it you’ve already combed the footage?” she asked.</p><p>“Couple times,” Costa said. “Kilgrave still had our guy delete the outside footage, so we couldn’t identify the vehicle they supposedly used to get in and out. But we’re in the process of installing hidden cameras with a DVR held off-site. If he comes back, and as long as Kilgrave doesn’t think to ask about it, we should be able to get an ID on the car and hopefully be able to piece together where they’re coming from.”</p><p>“Don’t have the budget for new cameras in the interrogation rooms, but got the dough for this, huh?” Jessica said, not bothering to hide the sarcasm.</p><p>“Let’s just say a few of us at the station were willing to kick in a bit out of pocket,” Costa said. This elicited the first smile the detective had seen grace the PI’s features.</p><p>“Give me all the information you have,” Jessica said, gesturing toward the screens. “If Kilgrave is going to be playing hero, then we’re gonna see a lot more of him, and that means a shit-ton more opportunities for him to make a mistake.”</p><p>The clock was ticking. Hogarth was good, but even one of New York’s most accomplished lawyers wouldn’t be able to get Elise out of accomplice charges if things carried on too long. Even worse, Elise could be tied to being an instigator of the Prescott incident if things went south. Elise had defended Kilgrave publicly on Trish’s show, and there were family members of the slain victims already throwing around similar accusations. This could get ugly.</p><p>Luckily, Jessica wasn’t the type to shy away when things got ugly. Not anymore.</p><hr/><p>“We should go to Paris.”</p><p>“What?” Elise said, looking up from the laptop. Kilgrave shifted in the armchair, raising his brows.</p><p>“Paris,” he said. “You like touristy, sell-out places like Venice, yeah? So you’d love Paris.”</p><p>“For someone from Europe, you sure do have a thing for bad-mouthing their cities,” Elise said, eyes wandering back to the screen.</p><p>“Only the shitty ones,” Kilgrave said. He watched Elise expectantly, but she ignored him in favor of the profiles of the men and women making up America’s Most Wanted list.</p><p>“Aw, come one, let’s get away, yeah?” Kilgrave said, fighting for her attention. “We’ve been working hard, you and I. We deserve a bit of a holiday, right? That’s what normal, working people do, innit?”</p><p>“It’s been less than a month!” Elise said, meeting his gaze with an exasperated look.</p><p>“And it’s been a complete slog,” Kilgrave said, his voice taking on a whine. “We’ve…we’ve what; got some confessions, stopped some petty drug deals, and got a few pawn shops to admit their wares are stolen goods? It’s bloody boring, that.”</p><p>“We’re helping people,” Elise said, regarding Kilgrave as if she were trying to read something in a foreign language. “That didn’t make you feel good at all?”</p><p>“Ah,” Kilgrave said, eyes wandering about. “I suppose I can say I’m happy that you’re happy, or some sort of nonsense.”</p><p>Elise closed her eyes with a sigh. The laptop snapped shut, and Kilgrave perked up as she turned toward him.</p><p>“Maybe…we should be doing something bigger,” Elise said. This hadn’t been what her companion wanted to hear, judging by the way his shoulders slumped.</p><p>“Like…we need a contact with the police, or something,” Elise said. “Someone who can tell us when something huge is going down. Something that would normally be really dangerous for them to handle, and we can make a big impact.”</p><p>“You mean <em>I </em>can make a big impact,” Kilgrave said. “I’m the one who does all the bloody work.”</p><p>Elise frowned. “I would say I pick up my fair share just getting you there in the first place.”</p><p>“It’s just so <em>monotonous,” </em>Kilgrave said. “Always the same bloody thing: <em>‘Stop what you’re doing. Call the fuzz. Tell ‘em everything bad you did when they get here.’ </em>Blah, blah, blah. It’s just going to be that over and over again forever, innit?”</p><p>“You should consider yourself lucky!” Elise said. “Nobody has to get hurt! Even most of the best supers still have to hurt someone in order to stop a crime.”</p><p>“But then they just keep coming back to do it again, don’t they?” Kilgrave said. He climbed out of his armchair, pacing about the bedroom. “If you would just let me teach them a lesson, then they wouldn’t do it anymore, yeah?”</p><p>“That’s not how it works,” Elise said, tracking Kilgrave with her eyes. “That’s not how our justice system works.”</p><p>“Your ‘justice system’ doesn’t live much up to its name though, does it?” Kilgrave said. “Those same blokes who keep getting put away for robbery or assault or rape just keep getting spit back out there. Keeping them around so they can just do the same goddamn thing over and over again doesn’t solve anything.”</p><p>“That still doesn’t mean they deserve to die,” Elise said, voice hardening. The reaction caused Kilgrave to lift his palms in submission.</p><p>“Your words, not mine,” he said. “Strictly no killing, here. I was just making a point.”</p><p>Elise shook her head, deciding to change the subject. “How’s your job?”</p><p>Kilgrave’s face lit up. “Oh, fantastic. They tell me I’m a natural – and I didn’t make them say that, either.”</p><p>The job in question was as a salesperson for a high-end art gallery. It almost went without saying there were false papers involved, but Elise had come to the conclusion that with Kilgrave, she was going to have to pick her battles.</p><p>There had also been a warranted level of doubt when Kilgrave described he didn’t even need to use his powers to be successful. Despite not saying a word, he must’ve picked up on Elise’s uncertainty, and invited her to watch him work one day under the guise of showing her the gallery.</p><p>To Elise’s surprise, it turned out their conversations concerning art had only been the tip of the iceberg concerning Kilgrave’s overall knowledge on the subject. Watching him describe brushstroke styles and pigments and symbolism aligning with different time periods left her with the same muddled feeling she had when he’d ask her to join him watching a soccer match. It was like a doppelganger who knew far more than what should humanly be possible about Monet’s eye problems and what the color yellow symbolized had magically taken his place. Familiar mannerisms like a quiet scoff or a thin-lipped scowl would sneak in when a less-than knowledgeable customer walked through the door, but a glance back to Elise would prompt Kilgrave to change his tone to an almost convincing level of false cheerfulness.</p><p><em>“Twat,” </em>Kilgrave had said, scowling as an older woman was ushered into his manager’s office for some paperwork. She had purchased a forty-five-thousand-dollar painting, but that didn’t seem to put a dent in Kilgrave’s perception of her ‘uncultured taste’ and the way her lips puckered when she took in the color of his suit jacket.</p><p><em>“Welcome to retail,” </em>Elise said, far less interested in the woman than she was with the small statue of a man with lobster-claw hands in a display case.</p><p>Kilgrave had appeared horrified. <em>“This is what it’s like for blokes who sell stuff?"</em></p><p>
  <em>“Pretty much.”</em>
</p><p>A rant concerning an employee’s right to kick someone in the head followed. It was shadowed by a debate concerning the concept of ‘the customer is always right,’ which was then succeeded by a moment of pouting when Elise made the sounder argument over why a business would do better if their customers didn’t have to worry about being drop-kicked when entering an establishment. Elise had figured this would result in a silent car ride home, but Kilgrave surprised her by brushing off the brooding fit.</p><p><em>“So, everyone does this?” </em>he asked. <em>“Having to deal with bloody idiots who drive you mad is what they all do?”</em></p><p>The reassurance that Kilgrave was experiencing something <em>normal </em>affected him in a peculiar way. The news almost made him seem happy, and his complaints thereafter of pretentious or ignorant customers were laced with a bit of excitement as if he were sharing a sort of inside joke.</p><p>“You should be proud,” Elise said. “You’re selling people something they’ll cherish.”</p><p>“More likely as a tax write-off, or a money laundering scheme,” Kilgrave said with a shrug. “But yeah, yours sounds more optimistic.”</p><p>Elise threw up her hands in defeat. “I can’t win.”</p><p>“Well, I suppose you’ll just have to settle,” Kilgrave said. A wicked grin grew on his face as Elise scowled from her own words being thrown back to her.</p><p>“I’m going to go look up something like a bounty hunter … or someone who has access to more crime stuff,” Elise said, rising from the chair. “I clearly have no idea what I’m doing, so maybe finding someone who does can help.”</p><p>“Like a private investigator?” Kilgrave said, now suddenly very interested.</p><p>“Oh, yeah,” Elise said. “Yeah, like that.”</p><p>“I’ll do it,” Kilgrave said. Elise’s eyebrows shot up. Her companion took this as a que to quickly explain.</p><p>“You were right about you … doing all the ‘behind-the-scenes’ work. I can help a tad with that.”</p><p>Elise’s eyes narrowed.</p><p>“Oh, get off it and just let me find the PI,” Kilgrave said. The evasive tone was more familiar, and Elise’s expression softened.</p><p>“And besides,” Kilgrave said, holding out his hand. “You know the rules about the laptop.”</p><p>Elise’s fingers tightened about the object. She lifted it up, reluctantly allowing Kilgrave to slide it from her grasp.</p><p>“Now don’t give me that look,” Kilgrave said, tossing the computer aside. “You would do the same if you were me.”</p><p>Elise hated that he was right.</p><p>“Now, how ‘bout the two of us have a little chinwag, yeah?” Kilgrave said, his demeanor brightening. “Go out on the veranda, have some wine, look at the stars and all that?”</p><p>“I’m pretty tired,” Elise said, turning away. “Maybe another time.”</p><p>Nothing more was uttered as Kilgrave watched her descend the stairs. Elise stepped onto the downstairs landing, giving each guard a nod in greeting as she passed. They were a bit livelier, nowadays – part of the deal was that Kilgrave could no longer control them outside the usual means an employer would control his employees. This even extended to Anton and Joanne, who seemed to be at least a little more at ease around the house. Anton had joked that he’d been “promoted” from slave to indentured servant.</p><p>And it was Anton who Elise went to see after the lights in Kilgrave’s room had gone out. She felt the chef was the only semblance of something sane she had to cling to. Elise was probably going to get lung cancer – sitting next to him every night as he smoked like it was going out of style – but like her relationship with Kilgrave, she was willing to compromise.</p><p>“How long do you think you can keep this up?” Anton asked, flicking ash over the railing. “Realistically?”</p><p>Elise tilted her head back, staring up at the few stars she could make out. “I have no idea.”</p><p>“You should get out of here, Elise,” Anton said, taking a drag. “The cops may be slow, but they’ll catch up eventually. Unless you leave New York, you’re gonna be fucked within a few months.”</p><p>“Kilgrave refuses to leave,” Elise said, sinking in her seat. “Says he likes this place and doesn’t want to go.”</p><p>Anton shrugged. “Maybe it’s for the best. Kilgrave gets arrested, and the rest of us finally get out of this place.”</p><p>“You can just leave now, can’t you?”</p><p>“You seriously did not just ask me that,” Anton said, incredulous.</p><p>“What?” Elise said.</p><p>“You think Kilgrave will let me go, knowing everything I know?” Anton said. “You think he’ll trust me if I say I’m going to walk right out of here and not say a word about this to anyone?”</p><p>Elise shook her head. “I don’t know…maybe? It’s slow, but I think I might be getting somewhere with him. I think maybe he just needs something more at his level.”</p><p>“Jesus, Elise, you sound like a parent talking about getting their kid into the advanced class.”</p><p>Elise hit him with a withering stare that only caused Anton to laugh.</p><p>“I think,” she said, fighting to keep the contempt from her voice, “if I can get him something more high profile, then maybe he’ll get the appreciation he thinks he deserves. If he does enough good things, then maybe he can even cut a deal with the DA, or something.”</p><p>“You’d want that?” Anton said, surprised. He stared at Elise until she dropped her eyes.</p><p>“He’s…” Elise trailed off, fiddling with her fingers. “He’s useful. If he just has someone pointing him in the right direction, then he can help so many people.”</p><p>“You keep saying that,” Anton said, running his thumb across his forehead. “You keep saying he can help people, but what about you? Just because he needs a moral compass doesn’t mean you have to be it. You’re not his girl, or his sidekick; you’re just a woman who really needs to get the fuck out of here before shit hits the fan.”</p><p>Elise shook her head. “I can’t. I can’t do that. I don’t know what he’ll do if I leave.”</p><p>“Kilgrave isn’t your responsibility,” Anton said. “Let the cops handle it. Shit, let the supers handle it.”</p><p>Elise’s eyes snapped to meet his. “Mark and Tara are dead because of me!” She sighed, dipping her head. “They would still be here if it wasn’t for me.”</p><p>“Hey! Hey!” Anton flicked the remainder of his cigarette over the railing. He crouched down, firmly gripping Elise’s shoulders. “That’s not true. You didn’t do anything, Elise – you got that? Kilgrave killed those people. You didn’t do a single thing.”</p><p>Elise squeezed her eyes closed, laying her head on his shoulder. “If I had just taken his stupid fucking coat…”</p><p>“Hey, it’s OK,” Anton said, rubbing her back. “Come on, Elise. You’re still here, alright? Every day that you’re here, you’re winning – got that? Just keep existing every day. It’s gonna work itself out.”</p><p>Elise took a deep breath. She lifted her head and dabbed at the corner of her eyes.</p><p>“Can I bum a cigarette?” she asked.</p><p>Anton’s eyebrows disappeared beneath his hairline. “You smoke?”</p><p>“I do now.”</p><p>A low chuckle escaped Anton as he helped Elise to her feet. He pulled out two cigarettes, lighting one and handing it over to Elise before helping himself.</p><p>“Oh, God,” Elise said, smoke billowing from her nose as she heaved. “Holy shit, this is terrible.”</p><p>“You get used to it,” Anton said with a coy grin.</p><p>Elise made a sound halfway between a cough and a laugh. She tried taking another drag, found the second go just as horrible, and resigned herself to simply letting the cigarette burn out between her fingers as she and Anton chatted into the night.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What the hell is this?”</p>
<p>“You asked for somewhere discreet,” the young man said. He opened his arms, gesturing to the junkyard around him. “This is one of the most discreet places I know.”</p>
<p>“It’s a bloody dump,” Kilgrave said, looking about. <em>“Literally </em>a bloody dump.”</p>
<p>“I don’t believe we’ve made our acquaintance,” the man said, watching Elise with a kind expression as he offered his hand. There was a glimpse of an intricate tattoo peeking out from under his sleeve as their hands shook. “Pryce Cheng, Private Investigator.”</p>
<p>“Nice to meet you,” Elise said, attempting to match the firm grip. “Elise Stratford.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I know who you are, Ms. Stratford,” Pryce said, his smile widening. “Any PI worth their salt should know about a high-profile abduction case like yours.”</p>
<p>“Well it’s not really an <em>abduction," </em>Kilgrave said, slapping Pryce’s hand away, “if she’s with me by her own accord, eh?”</p>
<p>“You’re absolutely right,” Pryce said, unperturbed. The man was cheery, but Elise got the distinct impression that there was nothing genuine behind Pryce’s smile. Everything from his trendy clothes, expensive watch, and too-white teeth screamed an image that was probably more for his client’s tastes his own. The tattoos seemed to be the only thing “real” about Pryce, and he kept those mostly hidden.</p>
<p>“So,” Pryce said, clapping his hands together. “You two are looking for a big case, yeah? Some shady dealings you can crack wide open and expose to the public? I want to start off by saying I find that incredibly noble, and I’m honored to be working with you two doing such important work.”</p>
<p>Considering how much Kilgrave was paying him, honor probably had little to do with his motivations.</p>
<p>“Now you two happened to come to me at the perfect time,” Pryce said, reaching into the messenger bag at his feet. He pulled out a folder, handing it to Kilgrave. Kilgrave passed it off to Elise without so much as a glance.</p>
<p>“We’ve been investigating a wave of abductions of young girls,” Pryce said, smiling as if the case were anything but grim. “And we think we’ve just uncovered a sex-trafficking ring. Now, a lot of these girls are homeless, or runaways, which has made this investigation difficult. But, we got a tip-off just last week that there’s going to be a cargo ship docking three days from now to load up these girls and take them down to Central America. Well, they <em>were, </em>until you two got a hold of this case, anyway.”</p>
<p>“Why haven’t you taken this to the police?” Elise asked, raising her eyes from the documents in hand.</p>
<p>“You two offered the higher bid,” Pryce said, as if it were obvious.</p>
<p>“You’re <em>selling </em>these girls’ rescue?” Elise said, aghast. The PI didn’t seem perturbed by the statement.</p>
<p>“There are a lot of people playing ‘hero,’ Ms. Stratford,” Pryce said. “The authorities handle what they can, but I think it’s healthier for the free market if the vigilante supers get a crack at some of the cases, too, wouldn’t you agree?”</p>
<p>Elise lowered her gaze, studying the photos of young girls clipped to the first page. “I … suppose.”</p>
<p>“You got anything flashier?” Kilgrave asked. “Something with … I dunno, helicopters or bombs or a foreign dignitary, or something?”</p>
<p>Pryce’s smile wavered. “Oh, well, I can get back to the office and take a look if you want.”</p>
<p>“No,” Elise interjected. “This is fine. We’ll take this one.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave made an annoyed sound, but didn’t argue.</p>
<p>“Excellent,” Pryce said, the familiar, fake smile returning. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you two.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>“You’ll just be in the way,” Kilgrave said. The elevator came to a stop, gleaming doors opening to the penthouse. He and Elise stepped out, the latter waving Pryce’s folder in her hand as if it were aflame.</p>
<p>“I can’t stay behind!” Elise said. “I’ll be there to help coordinate everyone and look after the girls.”</p>
<p>“The guards can do that,” Kilgrave said. He slid off his jacket, tossing the article of clothing into the arms of one of said guards. “You just need to give them the run-down beforehand.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave loosened his tie as he headed toward the stairs. “Cambridge City is on against Histon. Meet me upstairs half past two.”</p>
<p>Elise watched him with a tight-lipped scowl. She figured she was going to get her way in the end, but more arm twisting was required than previously imagined.</p>
<p>To her displeasure, Kilgrave did have a point – Elise’s firearm training extended to shooting coke bottles when she was sixteen, and she certainly didn’t have the ability to force the bad guys to lay down their weapons and give up without a fight. What she <em>did </em>have, however, was the ability to hold Kilgrave back from taking things too far.</p>
<p>Kilgrave wasn’t a sadist. At least, not entirely. He took pleasure in hurting someone if they really pissed him off, but otherwise he viewed violence as a means to an end more than anything.</p>
<p>The man held a deep-seeded belief that people needed to be <em>punished; </em>that too many of them got away with far too much without proper judgement. It was – as he had tried to explain to her one day – the reason he didn’t feel empathy for most of the people he came across. To him, the likelihood that those people had done <em>something </em>in the past which deserved some sort of reparation was almost certain. And so, when he’d order an annoying kid handing out flyers to spend the rest of his days staring at a wall, or bark at a man talking too loudly on the phone to eat the device piece-by-piece; Kilgrave believed these people were getting their just desserts.</p>
<p>Kilgrave was under the illusion he was karma incarnate.</p>
<p>This, alone, gave Elise more than enough motivation to keep him supervised during their “hero” business. She prayed it wouldn’t have to be forever, but for now it was a necessity until Kilgrave learned to view people as … well … <em>people</em>.</p>
<p>Elise had given up drinking, so in the absence of alcohol, she felt that a far less enjoyable glass of sparkling water would hopefully mitigate the mild pounding behind her eyes. Turning her back to the stairs, she made her way to the kitchen. Her eyes glanced over the scene … and Elise froze.</p>
<p>The chef was in the kitchen preparing lunch as per usual for the time of day. But unless Anton had grown a few inches taller, dyed his hair blonde, and undergone a sex change all in the span of one night – the person cutting up a carrot with a genial expression most certainly wasn’t Anton.</p>
<p>“Who are you?” Elise said, her voice a strained croak as she eyed the woman up and down. The chef looked up with a warm expression.</p>
<p>“Lenore, ma’am,” the woman said, speaking with a slight southern drawl. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”</p>
<p>“Where’s Anton?” Elise asked, voice hardly above a whisper.</p>
<p>“Who?” Lenore said, brow furrowed.</p>
<p>Elise was across the living room in an instant. The door to Anton’s room opened with a bang, and Elise’s eyes grew wide as she took in the neatly made bed and unfamiliar suitcase sitting in the corner. A panicked sound exited her lips, and Elise turned and dashed toward the stairs.</p>
<p>Kilgrave had pulled a deep purple polo shirt over his head, and was struggling to smooth his hair back in place as swift footfalls heralded Elise’s arrival.</p>
<p>“I know it’s not half past two,” Kilgrave said, casually studying Elise.</p>
<p>“Did you kill him?” Elise said, voice breaking. Her companion’s brow furrowed.</p>
<p>“Did I what?” Kilgrave said.</p>
<p>“Did you kill Anton?” Elise said. She steadied herself against an armchair, her breaths coming in short bursts as if she were in danger of hyperventilating.</p>
<p>“What? No!” Kilgrave said, offended. “He told me he was ready to retire, and I gave him his severance. Jesus, Elise – what do you think of me?”</p>
<p>
  <em>‘You think Kilgrave will let me go, knowing everything I know?’</em>
</p>
<p>A shaking hand slowly came up to cover Elise’s eyes. She gasped, warm tears running along her palm.</p>
<p>
  <em>He’s dead.</em>
</p>
<p>A pained, rattling sound escaped Elise. An annoyed expression had been gracing Kilgrave’s features, but there was a sudden shift at the sound’s occurrence. Kilgrave crossed the room and reached out. His hand stilled, and the arm was withdrawn.</p>
<p>“I need a glass of water!” Kilgrave said. “Now!”</p>
<p>The sound of scrambling came from downstairs. In a few seconds, Lenore came pounding up the steps, holding out the glass of water like a runner wielding the Olympic torch.</p>
<p>Kilgrave snatched the water from her hand. “Get out.”</p>
<p>Lenore spun on her heel, disappearing down the stairs.</p>
<p>“Alright, Elise,” Kilgrave said, setting the water down on an end table. “Time for a bit of a lie down, yeah?”</p>
<p>Elise began to shake. Her knees gave out, and she slowly sunk to the floor.</p>
<p>Kilgrave frowned. “That’s not what I meant.”</p>
<p>He reached out, hesitated, but grasped one hand around her arm while the other rested on her shoulder. Kilgrave hoisted her to her feet, guiding Elise into the armchair.</p>
<p>“Alright, there you go,” Kilgrave said, laying Elise down. “Let’s just get this into a recline…there we are. Better than the floor, I’d imagine.”</p>
<p>Elise didn’t answer, staring blankly ahead. A glass of water was shoved in her face, which she only ignored.</p>
<p>“Good God, you’re dramatic.” Lips flapped as Kilgrave gave a heavy exhale while he rummaged in the pocket of his slacks. A black phone was produced, Kilgrave swiping his fingers over the screen.</p>
<p>“I told you he retired,” Kilgrave said, regarding the screen. “Dunno why you’re here acting like it’s the end of the bloody world.”</p>
<p>Elise’s lip quivered. “He…was my friend.”</p>
<p>Dark eyes snapped up to regard Elise. She didn’t notice them boring into her for a moment before quickly looking away.</p>
<p>“He…” Elise said, gasping. “He didn’t deserve to–”</p>
<p>“Fuck yeah, he didn’t deserve his own bloody yacht,” Kilgrave said. The phone was now being held to Elise’s face, ringing. “But that’s what that tosser requested, so that’s what he got.”</p>
<p>The phone clicked.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Hello?”</em>
</p>
<p>Elise bolted upright. She snatched the phone from Kilgrave, putting it against her ear.</p>
<p>“Anton?!”</p>
<p><em>“Elise?” </em>Anton said, his tone brightening. He was shouting over an erratic, whooshing sound that fought to muffle his voice. <em>“You get yourself phone privileges for good behavior?”</em></p>
<p>A wave of relief rushed over Elise. The joy bubbled out in a chuckle. “Yeah, maybe.”</p>
<p><em>“I hope I’m not your only phone call,” </em>Anton said. <em>“I’d be flattered, but you need to save those to order out – the new chef Kilgrave brought in can’t compare. Did she tell you her restaurant was only nominated for THREE international awards? Amateur hour.”</em></p>
<p>Elise laughed, wiping her eyes. “No, she didn’t mention it.”</p>
<p><em>“Probably too ashamed,” </em>Anton said, Elise perfectly able to picture the twinkle in his eye. There was a cough, and Elise imagined Anton flicking a cigarette butt over the side of a pristine, white boat.</p>
<p><em>“Can you forgive me, Elise?” </em>Anton asked. Her smile wavered.</p>
<p>“Of course,” she said. “You…um…needed a change. Everyone does, sometimes.”</p>
<p><em>“You had just…” </em>Anton said, guilt seeping into his voice. <em>“You had said I should give it a shot – that Kilgrave might just let me go. Jesus, I nearly had a heart attack when I asked. But he only waved me away like it was no big thing, and told me to leave the country. Uh…“suggested,” may be a better term. He didn’t do the mind thing.”</em></p>
<p>Elise glanced to the right. Kilgrave had seated himself in the adjacent armchair, and was turning through the pages of a magazine concerning custom-order suits with an air of indifference. A knot formed in her stomach as she looked away.</p>
<p><em>“I have some family in Colombia I’ve been meaning to visit for much longer than before I came to work for Kilgrave,” </em>Anton said.<em> “I’m gonna spend some time down with them for a while. How about I call when I get there, eh? I’ll marvel you with my sailing exploits.”</em></p>
<p>Elise’s expression lifted. “You never mentioned knowing how to sail.”</p>
<p><em>“I don’t,” </em>Anton said, laughing. <em>“But I hope the two dudes I hired to do everything around here sure as hell do.”</em></p>
<p>Elise sniffed, wiping her nose. “Safe sailing, then,” she said.</p>
<p><em>“Same to you,” </em>Anton said. He let out a sigh that was almost swallowed up by the roaring ocean breeze.</p>
<p>
  <em>“You’re already bringing him around, Elise – Just keep being you.”</em>
</p>
<p>Elise nodded despite knowing full well that Anton couldn’t see it.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Later, country girl.”</em>
</p>
<p>“Bye, Anton.”</p>
<p>Elise lowered the phone from her face. She regarded it for a moment before holding it out to the side.</p>
<p>“Keep it.”</p>
<p>Elise looked up. Her companion was still leafing through the catalog, his eyes slowly running over the pages. “There are others you’ll want to call, yeah?” Kilgrave said. “I’m sure your parents are right miffed from not hearing from you for a few months. Not entirely your fault though, mind.”</p>
<p>The phone was slowly withdrawn. Elise had to consciously loosen her grip on the object as her hand shook.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” she said, barely able to get out the words.</p>
<p>Kilgrave cleared his throat. He tossed the catalog aside, looking her in the eye. “S’good thing you already set a precedent for this sort of thing, innit? Otherwise I’d have to get a landing pad installed on the veranda.”</p>
<p>Elise raised her brows, impressed Kilgrave even remembered the off-hand remark about the helicopter.</p>
<p>“I almost…you know…“asked” him to stay,” Kilgrave said, lifting his fingers in air quotes. “But I was supposed to treat the bloke like a regular employee, yeah?”</p>
<p>Kilgrave regarded her like a puppy who had dropped the morning paper at her feet. He was <em>pretty sure </em>he had done the right thing, but it wasn’t until he received a form of confirmation that he could be totally certain.</p>
<p>“Well,” Elise said, trying to be coy in an effort to lift the mood, “what the <em>right</em> thing to do if you had <em>really </em>wanted him to stay would’ve been to offer him a raise.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave gave the expected reaction of scoffing at the thought. This elicited a laugh from Elise. It wasn’t until her laughter died down that she noticed Kilgrave regarding her with an oddly subdued expression.</p>
<p>“Ah,” Kilgrave said. “Is this the sort of thing people would…you know…” Kilgrave gesticulated as if this would convey the meaning behind his words. The confused look he got in return indicated that it had little effect.</p>
<p>“People…<em>talk </em>about this sort of thing…right?” Kilgrave finished.</p>
<p>Thinking back to when she was eleven, Elise recalled when her dad had to give her “the talk” during her first unexpected visit from Aunt Flo. Her mother had been out of town, and she could clearly recall her father sighing, stammering, grumbling, and doing just about every other indicator that one was embarrassed through the entire ordeal. Like then, Elise found it hilarious.</p>
<p>Elise slapped a hand over her mouth, doubling over. To Kilgrave, this didn’t seem to come across as anything amusing.</p>
<p>“What the hell has gotten into you?” Kilgrave said, brow furrowing. “I can’t get a single bloody thing out without you having a laugh at my expense.”</p>
<p>“Your face,” Elise said, pointing. “You don’t want to talk about it <em>so bad.”</em></p>
<p>“Obviously,” Kilgrave said. “Who the bloody hell would? Why would I want to spend my time sitting here helping you mope about?”</p>
<p>“Because that would be the <em>nice </em>thing to do,” Elise said, regaining her composure.</p>
<p>“I just gave you my phone for nothing!” Kilgrave said, indicating the object. “And that’s the newest iPhone, mind. How the hell is that not being nice?”</p>
<p>“I didn’t say you <em>weren’t </em>being nice,” Elise said, amused by the frustrated look. “I was just answering your question.”</p>
<p>“What a slog,” Kilgrave said. He sat back in his seat, using the remote to flick on the television. “Don’t see me whingeing 'bout my problems.”</p>
<p>“You could, if you wanted,” Elise said, settling herself forward. The match hadn’t started, just yet, and Kilgrave kept the TV muted as ads for toothpaste and chocolate digestives flashed across the screen. “I’d listen.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave made a dismissive sound. They sat in silence for a few minutes, the only thing breaking it being Elise helping herself to some water.</p>
<p>“I like having a job,” Kilgrave said. He kept his eyes forward, twiddling his thumbs. “You were right about how it feels different when you earn something.”</p>
<p>“It’s a good feeling,” Elise said.</p>
<p>“I thought I had a “thing,”” Kilgrave said, accenting the statement with air quotes. “I was hit by a bus, left for dead, and when I got up and about again, I thought my entire life should revolve around getting Jessica back.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave dismissed the notion with a wave. “That was it. That was <em>everything. </em>I had never had a goal before – not in my entire sodding life. But my goal was to get her to choose me – to give me a chance to have that same…<em>stupid</em>…bloody thing everyone else seems to have with no trouble.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave looked at Elise now, exasperated. “How do you do it? How do you put yourself out there – bear your guts to the entire goddamn world – and just…<em>hope </em>that someone will <em>choose </em>you and give you that cliché life in the suburbs with a house and a dog and a…grill, or some nonsense?”</p>
<p>“A grill?” Elise said, wrinkling her nose.</p>
<p>“I don’t bloody know what they do out there!” Kilgrave exclaimed. Elise had to hold herself back from laughing again. The thoughtful look and nod Kilgrave received instead prompted him to continue.</p>
<p>“I couldn’t control her,” Kilgrave said, dropping his hands. “I knew I couldn’t; not anymore. But I needed her not to say no, even though now there’s nothing I could do to stop it. How can anyone live with that?”</p>
<p>“Uh,” Elise said, trying to conjure up a better explanation than: <em>‘they just do, since no one else has a choice.’</em></p>
<p>“They just do, since no one else has a choice,” she said.</p>
<p>Well, there had been an attempt.</p>
<p>“But that’s maddening, innit?!” Kilgrave said, as if it couldn’t possibly be true.</p>
<p>“I don’t know!” Elise said, feeling unqualified considering the topic of discussion. “I guess it’s sort of like gambling? You just hope you’ll hit it big, or something, and that people will like you back when you put yourself out there.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave regarded her as if she were an idiot. “But then what the hell are you supposed to do if they don’t?”</p>
<p>“Just…I don’t know…” Elise said, looking about in thought. “Change, I guess? But, you know, you shouldn’t change who you are only for other people. You have to change in a way that will make you happy, but at the same time make other people happy.”</p>
<p>“What the fuck does that even mean?!” Kilgrave said, clearly lost. He was regarding Elise as if she had suddenly started speaking in tongues.</p>
<p>“Just be a decent person,” Elise said, waving her hands, “and hopefully people will be decent back! That’s, like, it!”</p>
<p>“That can’t just be <em>it,” </em>Kilgrave said.</p>
<p>“Well, it kind of is!” Elise said. She stared at him with a ‘what can you do?’ sort of expression.</p>
<p>“You’re useless, you know that?” Kilgrave said. He turned back to the TV and unmuted the volume. He regarded the soccer match with a scowl. They watched in silence for a moment before he unexpectedly piped up. “Are you here, now, because you want to be?”</p>
<p>Elise regarded him in surprise. She quickly looked away, schooling her features.</p>
<p>“And not because you’re frightened of…me?” Kilgrave finished. He cleared his throat, keeping his eyes locked ahead.</p>
<p>Elise flexed her fingers. She stayed silent long enough for Kilgrave to start to fidget.</p>
<p>“It’s both,” she finally said. “I think.”</p>
<p>It wasn’t the answer Kilgrave had wanted, but it was still acceptable. He had read somewhere, once, that <em>‘all good things come to those who wait.’ </em></p>
<p>To someone who could always get precisely what he wanted, when he wanted it – it came across as absolute rubbish. But now, he was beginning to understand. Now, Kilgrave could learn to be patient.</p>
<p>Things were beginning to shift, and that was good enough for him.</p>
<hr/>
<p><em>“Safe sailing, then,”</em> Elise said.</p>
<p>“Same to you,” Anton replied. He let out a sigh, his eyes gazing over the endless horizon. “You’re already bringing him around, Elise – Just keep being you.”</p>
<p>There was a pause. Anton was sure Elise was nodding, a soft smile on her lips. He smirked.</p>
<p>“Later, country girl.”</p>
<p>
  <em>“Bye, Anton.”</em>
</p>
<p>Anton lowered the phone, tapping the screen to end the call. He stared at the object for a moment, before chucking it over the side of the boat. The phone hit the water with a ‘plop,’ and was swallowed up by the waves.</p>
<p>Anton got to his feet, struggling to keep his balance. The rowboat was slippery from the piss which had accumulated over the non-stop hours of rowing, and it didn’t help that his legs had long since cramped up and threatened to give out entirely. But Anton persevered, using the last of his dwindling strength to pick up an oar. He held it high, before slamming it down into the bottom boards. The small wooden boat was quite old, and the wood let out cracks and snaps in protest as Anton repeatedly slammed the oar against it.</p>
<p>“West Virginia,” Anton mumbled, chapped lips bleeding. “Mountain Mama.”</p>
<p>The oar snapped, but not before water gurgled up between the boards. Anton fell to his knees. He stared at the fountain of sea water, transfixed as it started to gather around his legs and soak into his slacks.</p>
<p>“Take me home.”</p>
<p>The boat sagged to the side, succumbing itself to the grasp of swirling salt and seafoam. Its occupant went with it, going against every instinct of self-preservation screaming in the back of his mind as he did nothing to keep either of them afloat. Anton ignored that small voice, because there was another voice he was listening to, now – he didn’t have much choice.</p>
<p>“Take me home,” Anton said, lifting his face to the sky. He stared blankly as the water splashed against his chest.</p>
<p>“Country roads.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>Can’t say I ever figured my most heroic moment would come hand-in-hand with a thousand cases of roofing tiles and a cramp in my neck…but here I am. Here I’ve been, actually, for the last nine goddamn hours. Oh, the glamorous life of being a super.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“It’s go time, Jones.”</em>
</p>
<p>Jessica pushed herself up from the rusted metal. Her neck popped, a relieved sound escaping her lips. “Aw, fuck.”</p>
<p>
  <em>“Jones?”</em>
</p>
<p>“Nothing. Getting in position.”</p>
<p>Jessica leapt lightly from the rafters, landing on a row of cardboard boxes crammed on top of a gigantic shelving unit. She was flanked on either side by metal shelving identical to where she was perched; the seemingly endless rows of boxes, coupled with the dim warehouse lighting, made her spot the perfect place to remain unseen as she crept forward.</p>
<p>“Is that all of them?”</p>
<p>Kilgrave’s voice echoed through the warehouse. Jessica’s movements grew jerky, but she recovered with a shake of her head.</p>
<p>“I believe so, sir,” came the reply. Jessica peaked over the edge to take in the scene below.</p>
<p>Eight men were busy tying each other’s hands behind their backs with thick zip ties. Nearby, Jessica counted fourteen girls of various ages huddled together. None of them spoke, although a few of them let out wracking sobs as their wide eyes darted about.</p>
<p>Four of Kilgrave’s guards brandished pistols as they milled on the outskirts of the two groups. She knew there were two more guards out front, another three in the back, plus at least three more in the cars down the block. Luckily, she didn’t have to think about them. Her main concern currently had his back to her, his polished black oxfords gleaming in the dim light as he impatiently tapped his right foot.</p>
<p>A part of Jessica – a very, <em>very </em>small part – questioned if she was doing the right thing. She had watched it all from start to finish. Jessica had observed Kilgrave march in, tell the kidnappers to give up without a fight, then assign one of the stunned men to bring out all the girls from the various places they had been stashed around the warehouse. Jessica’s heart ached as she watched a few of these girls unfurl themselves from hidden wall compartments that would be considered inhumane for holding a Pomeranian.</p>
<p>The feeling of pity was quickly swallowed up by rage. She hadn’t been there to meet Pryce Cheng, but she imagined the guy probably had a pretty punchable face, based on the picture Detective Costa had painted.</p>
<p>Pryce had approached the police three days ago looking to sell a hot tip. The hot tip wasn’t for the human trafficking – not nearly as important, in his opinion – but on <em>who, </em>exactly, was looking to thwart it. The information was handed over with a smile, Pryce only asking that the police give him credit for tracking down Elise Stratford when her rescue inevitably makes it to the national news circuit.</p>
<p>It was a win-win for Pryce. He got a hefty paycheck selling the crime info to Kilgrave, then he was set up to be flooded with the best PR imaginable once he becomes the face of Elise’s rescue. He had no qualms over someone else actually taking Kilgrave down, nor did he seem bothered to use the trafficking of underage girls as a vehicle to boost himself into notoriety. Jessica knew from personal experience that you have to be at least a certain level of sleazeball to be a PI, but Pryce was certainly taking the cake. Her powerset didn’t include fortune telling, but she could foresee a good ass-whooping in Pryce’s future.</p>
<p>
  <em>“You in position, Jones?”</em>
</p>
<p>Jessica reached up to adjust the noise-cancelling headphones over her ears for what she felt like the millionth time that day. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.</p>
<p>“Yup. Do it.”</p>
<p>The nearly ear-shattering sound of drums, guitar, and hoarse screaming bounced through her skull. Jessica wasn’t big into heavy metal, but if it was between that or a constant sound of blaring horns, she felt she took the deal which would keep her the sanest.</p>
<p>Jessica swung over the side of the boxes, climbing down the far end of the shelving for a few feet before letting herself fall. She felt the landing reverberate through her body, and as expected, all eyes were on her as she stepped out from around the corner.</p>
<p>Kilgrave’s face twisted in shock. He studied her with large, brown eyes that still didn’t fail to make her feel like she was being taken apart piece-by-piece.</p>
<p>
  <em>Main Street.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Birch Street.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Higgins Drive.</em>
</p>
<p>She couldn’t hear it, but Jessica felt the scream building up and escaping her lungs as she lunged for the guard to her right, sending the man toppling against one of the shelves. His limbs splayed out as his back hit the metal beam, and he collapsed face-first on the concrete.</p>
<p>The girls huddled together opened their mouths in silent screams. Jessica’s eyes snapped forward as she advanced on the man brandishing a gun in her face. She twisted the gun from his grasp, the man’s face screwing up in pain as she felt a snap beneath her fingers. She shoved him aside like a child tossing away a doll.</p>
<p>Kilgrave, unsurprisingly, had taken off at a run. This was cut short when the back entrance burst open to the sight of his men exchanging gunfire with a gaggle of police behind a row of cop cars. Kilgrave froze in place, eyes wide as red and blue lights danced across his face. When his attention returned to Jessica, there was something more. Now there was <em>betrayal. </em></p>
<p>It was unfair. It was so, <em>so, </em>unfair that he thought he had any right to look at her that way. Jessica wanted nothing more than to bash his skull into a fine paste so he could never make that face again. It was an intoxicating notion, and distracting enough to leave Jessica open when the third guard shot her in the shoulder.</p>
<p>Fire burned behind her eyes as Jessica whipped around. She tackled the gunman, lifting him in the air and tossing him rather dramatically into a stack of wooden crates.</p>
<p>When Jessica turned her head, she noticed Kilgrave was screaming something at her. She embraced the warm feeling growing in her chest as she found herself quite in control of her own actions. Her target’s expression grew wary, and Kilgrave made a beeline for the narrow hallway behind him. There would be another exit there, based on the schematics Jessica had reviewed earlier. But police were going to be stationed outside that one, too. Not like it mattered, since Jessica would be getting to Kilgrave first.</p>
<p>Guard number four had disappeared. Whether he had chickened out, or went to grab backup, Jessica didn’t care. She’d keep an eye on her six, but in the meanwhile nabbing Kilgrave and mashing his face into a bloody pulp was her number one priority. They needed Elise’s location – so she couldn’t kill him – but as long as the fucker could still hold a pen, Jessica figured it didn’t matter much what condition the rest of him was in.</p>
<p>She found Kilgrave struggling with the deadbolt to the back door. Or, maybe not. He had his ear to the door, and the panicked look on his face indicated he could probably make out the commotion going on outside. He was surrounded – helpless. Not in control.</p>
<p>Trapped.</p>
<p>Kilgrave was in hell, and Jessica couldn’t be happier.</p>
<p>He spotted her. Kilgrave’s lips moved in a way that gave her the impression he was saying her name.</p>
<p>“Hey, asshole,” Jessica said. She smiled, and it was the first genuine smile from Jessica Jones Kilgrave had ever received. It was the kind of smile he claimed he always wanted, but now that he had it, he couldn’t be more terrified.</p>
<p>Kilgrave’s lips were moving again, but the only reply he received was Jessica reaching up and tapping her finger against the large earphones.</p>
<p>“What? Sorry, you’re gonna have to speak up!”</p>
<p>Kilgrave bolted to the right and threw open the door to an open-plan office. He pushed a mail cart aside in his wake, the objected tumbling behind him. The cart did its intended purpose of slowing Jessica down, but only for the moment it took her to scoop it up and hold it high overhead. The cart flew through the air, crashing against the door at the far end of the room. Kilgrave had been reaching for the handle, but he backed away with what Jessica assumed was a cry in surprise.</p>
<p>“Looks like you’re in a hurry.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave was yanked around, his back slamming against the wall. Two impossibly strong fists held him there, his attempts at freeing himself failing against the hands wrapped in the material of his plum jacket.</p>
<p>A desperate grab for the headphones caused Kilgrave’s hand to be slapped away. This was quickly followed by a fist slamming against his cheekbone. He deflated, his head lolling forward as he nearly collapsed. Jessica held him upright, glad to see that he was still conscious based on the rapid blinking.</p>
<p>“Hey, you got me,” Jessica said, fire behind her eyes. “Isn’t this what you wanted? Isn’t this what you were after when you kidnapped an innocent woman, and turned my neighbor into a goddamn heroin addict?! Isn’t this what you wanted, asshole?!”</p>
<p>Kilgrave’s breathing was ragged. He lifted his head to meet her gaze, one eye now bloodshot above his bruised cheek. Jessica recognized the look he was giving her from the night he was hit by the bus – when he was calling her name, ordering her to come back to him, and she just kept walking. It was a level of anger and frustration that could only ever be acquainted with the type of person who had never, <em>ever, </em>been told no.</p>
<p>Jessica drank the expression in, retroactively associating it with all the times she wished she could have told Kilgrave ‘no’ – when he had asked her to come with him the night they met, when he had ordered her to stay by his side, when he had compelled her to share his bed, and when he had forced her to kill.</p>
<p>
  <em>No. No. No. NO.</em>
</p>
<p>“This is better than what you deserve,” Jessica said, venom lacing her words. She reached into her pocket, producing a syringe. She flicked the plastic cap off the tip of the needle with her thumb and held Kilgrave steady as he started to struggle. She plunged the needle into his neck, and Jessica watched in satisfaction as Kilgrave’s eyes bore into hers before his lids drooped. Kilgrave’s head fell forward, and he grew still.</p>
<p>Jessica sighed and tossed the used syringe aside. The slight turn to her head allowed her to catch movement out of the corner of her eye. Kilgrave’s form was allowed to crumple to the floor as she whipped about. There was a figure standing motionless in the door’s threshold, and Jessica lowered her fists as recognition dawned on her.</p>
<p>“Elise,” Jessica said, barely above a whisper. She spared a quick glance behind her before jogging forward. She came to a stop before Elise as her eyes tracked over her for injuries. The woman who she had only known from witness statements and the glossy pictures pinned to her wall looked disheveled, but didn’t appear to have been hurt.</p>
<p>“Hey,” Jessica said. She reached up, slowly pulling the headphones off. “Hey, you alright?”</p>
<p>Elise was looking between Kilgrave and Jessica with eyes as wide as dinner plates. Her mouth stretched into a thin line, and she nodded.</p>
<p>A smile quite different from the one she’d been sporting before grew on Jessica’s face. “I’m…wow. I didn’t expect we’d find you so fast. I guess it makes sense that asshole wouldn’t want to keep you too far. Come on, let me get you out of here.”</p>
<p>Elise’s eyes were dancing over her face as if she were looking for something. She opened her mouth, but quickly dropped her eyes.</p>
<p>“Hey, Elise – you OK?”</p>
<p>Elise reached out and wrapped her hand around Jessica’s. Pain suddenly shot through Jessica’s shoulder. She gasped, reaching up to inspect the bullet wound.</p>
<p><em>What the fuck? </em>Jessica thought. <em>This isn’t even that bad. Why did it start –?</em></p>
<p>A man stepped into the room behind Elise. Jessica recognized him as the fourth guard that had disappeared from earlier.</p>
<p>“Elise!” Jessica said, pushing the other woman aside. “Get back!”</p>
<p>Jessica gave the man a good punch in the gut. The expected outcome of him flying back into the hallway didn’t happen, but the unexpected outcome of fracturing the bones in her hand, did.</p>
<p>Jessica cried out, cradling her hand as red splotches filled her vision and she suddenly felt like the ground was rocking beneath her. She was vaguely aware of the guard stepping around her and into the room.</p>
<p>“No!” Jessica cried. Her vision was still shitty, but she was able to make out the scene of the guard bending over to pick Kilgrave up and heave the smaller man over his shoulder.</p>
<p>“NO!”</p>
<p>Jessica struggled to take a step forward. She nearly tripped, but was saved knocking her head into the side of a desk as Elise gripped her around the shoulders.</p>
<p>
  <em>Elise.</em>
</p>
<p>“Oh, fuck,” Jessica said. She lifted her head, looking back at the woman who had used her power to render Jessica nearly helpless. “No, Elise. Don’t do this. Kilgrave is <em>evil. </em>Believe me, he is <em>not </em>a good person. Don’t help him. He sure as fuck doesn’t deserve it.”</p>
<p>Elise broke their gaze. She blinked back tears, but turned back with a semblance of a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.</p>
<p>“He can do good,” she said, as if trying to convince herself more than her companion. “He’s getting better, I swear. He has the power to help so many. He just…he’s just still learning to –”</p>
<p>“He’s killed people, Elise!” Jessica said, her voice taking on a pleading tone. “He’s had them kill themselves – had them kill others. He got my neighbor addicted to fucking heroin so he would stalk me, and he had me…oh, fuck.”</p>
<p>The pain in her shoulder was unbearable. Jessica sunk to the floor, leaning against the side of a cubicle.</p>
<p>“He doesn’t do that anymore,” Elise said, her voice soft. The guard carrying Kilgrave walked past, peeking his head out the door before disappearing to the right.</p>
<p>“It’s clear! Let’s go!” a low voice echoed.</p>
<p>“He doesn’t kill anymore,” Elise said, backing away. “He’s not the same. He can do good.”</p>
<p>Jessica gripped her injured shoulder with a grimace. She slowly shook her head. “I’m fucked up, Elise. Don’t let him turn you into me.”</p>
<p>Elise opened her mouth as if to reply, but no words came out. Her lip quivered.</p>
<p>“Hey!” a voice shouted.</p>
<p>Elise looked out the door, her expression growing fearful. She shot Jessica final glance before darting out of the room toward the back door.</p>
<p>“Stop!” the same voice shouted. There was the sound of pounding feet, and Detective Costa came into view. He almost passed Jessica by, but came to an abrupt halt when he spotted her bleeding on the floor.</p>
<p>“Go after her!” Jessica said, voice cracking.</p>
<p>Costa obliged, pressing the button of the radio attached to his jacket. “This is Costa, we have a 10-53 toward rear entrance C. I have 10-57 in sight and in pursuit. Send back …”</p>
<p>Costa’s voice drifted away amid the sound of shouts and footfalls filling the hallway. Jessica felt like one of those Yankee bobbleheads she’d spot on the dashes of cabs as her vision bounced about and she struggled to stay conscious. She regarded her shaking hand, her fingerless glove soaked with blood. The vision blurred with a memory – a memory of her staring at that same hand as she knelt next to the body of the woman Kilgrave had ordered her to murder.</p>
<p>“Don’t let him turn you into me.”</p>
<p>Jessica’s eyes fluttered shut, her head slumping forward.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Kilgrave had been wearing a wire. It was the compromise he and Elise had come to when Elise finally agreed that she would keep herself at a distance during the rescue. She had been listening to Kilgrave’s feed in the car parked down the block when Kilgrave’s bored tone suddenly shifted.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Jessica?”</em>
</p>
<p>The guards around her immediately sprang into action. The black SUV peeled around the corner, but came to an abrupt stop as three police cruisers turned in front of them from behind a wide row of shipping containers.</p>
<p>“Fuck! Hold on!” the driver said, looking over his shoulder as he shifted the car into reverse. The vehicle wheeled in between another row of containers. The men around her made quick work of arming themselves before pushing Elise out the back.</p>
<p>“Meet up with the guys at the rear!” the driver shouted. He opened fire on the approaching police cruisers as Elise was pulled along by another guard. Elise’s legs were fighting to give out, and if it weren’t for someone literally dragging her along, she was pretty sure she would’ve simply collapsed into a useless pile then and there.</p>
<p>The situation with the rear guard wasn’t any better. Elise watched in horror as the men sought shelter behind crates and metal barrels against a barrage of gunfire. The police were huddled behind their cruisers, occasionally popping up to return fire and demand the guards to stand down.</p>
<p>About twenty feet behind the other guards, a nondescript grey door crept open. A stack of barrels, wires, and nets blocked the police from getting a good view of the door, and they didn’t seem to notice the head peeking out. Elise gripped the arm of the guard at her side, immediately recognizing Tern.</p>
<p>“Shit,” her guard whispered. Tern had been one of the four assigned for Kilgrave’s personal protection, and he looked very alone.</p>
<p>Tern was scoping out the scene from behind the barrels when he spotted the two of them creeping around stacks of crates and upturned rowboats. He watched Elise with an expression she couldn’t decipher as they finally drew close enough to speak.</p>
<p>“Gannet, do you have the car?” Tern asked. The man holding Elise’s elbow shook his head.</p>
<p>“Kilgrave got cornered by Jones,” Tern said, his eyes flicking to Elise. “Can you stop her?”</p>
<p>Elise glanced between the two men, confirming she was the one Tern was speaking to. “What? Stop who?”</p>
<p>“There’s a woman who’s after Kilgrave. She’s a super, like you. Can you do your thing and make her weak so we can get him out?”</p>
<p>“I’m not –”</p>
<p>“Can you do it?” Tern asked. He stared at her until Elise looked away.</p>
<p>“I … I don’t … I-I’ll try.”</p>
<p>“First door on the left,” Tern said, motioning her inside. “Be careful. I’ll be right behind you, but don’t let her know I’m there.”</p>
<p>A hushed conversation followed her the few short steps it took to get to the door. Like he said, Tern was soon on her heels and pressed his back up against the wall as Elise placed her hand on the door and pushed it open.</p>
<p>“This is better than what you deserve.”</p>
<p>Elise watched Jessica inject something into Kilgrave’s neck. She hadn’t seen Kilgrave looking so afraid outside the time he was begging for her forgiveness at the restaurant. It was hard to know for sure, but it seemed Kilgrave's eyes locked with hers for half a second before his head slumped forward. A heavy feeling sunk in her chest, and Elise stepped into the room.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter contains (non violent) explicit content. If there are any of you who would rather skip that bit, head on over to fanfiction.net where I have this story posted (same name, same author handle) while keeping the content at an M rating.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Kilgrave didn’t awake with the dramatic gasp and flailing of limbs like one would expect from having watched a lot of movies. His lids simply fluttered open like he had awoken from a nap. He did, however, reach his hand up to touch his cheekbone, letting out a hiss when his fingers brushed the bruised flesh.</p>
<p>“Agh, that bitch.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave pushed himself up, eyes dancing over the plain room. He may not have been in a movie, but the room certainly resembled one – two queen beds flanked either side of a short dresser sporting a lamp, and one door led out into what looked like a living space while another was cracked open enough to reveal a small bathroom. The space was like the crappy hotels Kilgrave had seen in action movies – usually where the good guys took refuge while stocking up on a shitload of guns. Kilgrave had never found himself in such a shabby establishment. He couldn’t say even the novelty of the situation was making it very enjoyable.</p>
<p>Two figures stepped into the doorway. There was an ad agency three buildings down, and the faint purple glow of their logo was the only light source Kilgrave had to see by. As he squinted into the gloom, Kilgrave thought for half a second he might be a child again; his parents coming to check in on him after having another nightmare. His parents had been the cause for a vast majority of his nightmares, to tell the truth, so the comfort they offered was very rarely appreciated.</p>
<p>But as the figures came closer, it became clear Kilgrave was no longer a boy of twelve living in the English countryside. He was actually relieved to see the pair approaching him – well, one of them, at least – which was a stark contrast to how he felt toward his parents.</p>
<p>Elise let out a reassured sound as she stopped at the foot of his bed. Kilgrave didn’t take his eyes off her, even as Tern gently lifted Kilgrave’s wrist and rolled back the white dress shirt to check his pulse.</p>
<p>“We were worried you wouldn’t wake up,” Elise said, a weak smile on her face. “We didn’t know what that was … and taking you to a hospital wasn’t really a thing we could do …”</p>
<p>“What the bloody hell happened?” Kilgrave said. His eyes finally left Elise as the man at his side spoke.</p>
<p>“The police must’ve received a tip off,” Tern said. He stood, taking a few steps back. “This is one of the safe houses our company has in the area. Now that you’re awake, I advise we relocate as soon as possible. Gannet’s outside, and I’ll have him check the route between here and the next safe house to make sure it’s all clear.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave groaned. “I feel like my bloody head has been nearly knocked in. Just get me the hell out of here and take us home.”</p>
<p>“Sir,” Tern said, his posture growing stiff. He turned on his heel and made his way out to the living area.</p>
<p>“No! No!” Elise said, looking between Kilgrave and Tern in alarm. “Tell him to stop!”</p>
<p>“What?" Kilgrave furrowed his brow. "Why the–”</p>
<p>“STOP HIM!”</p>
<p>“Stop! Stop!” Kilgrave said. “Come back … err … <em>you.”</em></p>
<p>“Tern,” Elise said.</p>
<p>“Tern! Tern, right,” Kilgrave said. “Tern, get back here.”</p>
<p>Tern mechanically walked back into the room. He came to a stop, seeming quite unsure of what else he should be doing.</p>
<p>“There’s police there,” Elise said, fiddling with her hands. “We saw it on the news; they raided the penthouse.”</p>
<p>She left out that the main topic of conversation between the reporters had been speculations over whether Elise was dead. There were also some rumblings about the penthouses’ former resident, who no one had seen hide nor hair of for the past few months. Elise tried not to dwell too much on the thought.</p>
<p>“Aw, fuck me!” Kilgrave said. He threw back the covers and got to his feet. He wobbled somewhat precariously, but quickly righted himself as he started to pace.</p>
<p>“That means they got to one of you lot, doesn’t it?” Kilgrave asked, glaring at Tern.</p>
<p>“No, sir,” Tern said, a hint of offense to his voice. “Our service –”</p>
<p>Kilgrave's voice barked over him. “Tell me if you think the police got this information from one of your own."</p>
<p>“Yes,” Tern said. He looked away, shoulders slumping.</p>
<p>“Don’t do that,” Elise said, her eyes tracking Kilgrave. “You don’t have to do that to him.”</p>
<p>“I’ll do whatever the bloody fucking hell I want,” Kilgrave said, eyes wandering about. “And that means this place isn’t safe either, is it?”</p>
<p>“It depends on who’s in police custody,” Tern said.</p>
<p>A muscle twitched in his jaw as Kilgrave stared out the window. “How long have we got?”</p>
<p>“We should move within the next five hours,” Tern said. “There’s another safe house a few blocks east. Gannet will check it out, then we can relocate.”</p>
<p>“No, no, no,” Kilgrave said, waving away the notion. “Too risky – the police may already know about it. No, we’ll find some quaint-looking little townhouse or something and take refuge there until things blow over and I can find a new penthouse.”</p>
<p>“Wait,” Elise said, a line forming between her brows. “Do you mean you’re going to kick some random family out of their home?”</p>
<p>“Don’t be daft,” Kilgrave said. “It’ll draw much less suspicion if the family stays and acts normally.”</p>
<p>“You can’t do that!” Elise said. “If something goes wrong, they could get hurt!”</p>
<p>“Well, we’re between a rock and a fucking hard place right now, <em>Elise,” </em>Kilgrave said, turning to face her. “And I need you to get over your bloody pretentious bullshit so we don’t get strung up by the neck or shipped off to the Raft.”</p>
<p>Elise stared at Kilgrave in disbelief. She laughed, although there was no humor behind it. With a shake of her head, Elise turned to leave.</p>
<p>“Stop her.”</p>
<p>Tern reached out to snatch Elise around the wrist. She was jerked to a halt, and stared at the hand firmly gripping her forearm. Her voice came out in a low hiss.</p>
<p>“You <em>did not </em>just do that.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave made a frustrated sound. He elicited a lazy wave in their direction. “Let her go.”</p>
<p>Tern withdrew his hand and shot Elise an apologetic look.</p>
<p>“Get out,” Kilgrave said.</p>
<p>Kilgrave hadn’t specified at what speed Tern should do so, so the jog to the large man’s step was a decision made all on his own. Elise watched the guard go before looking over her shoulder, her jaw set as she regarded Kilgrave with a withering glare.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” Kilgrave said. The pair of eyes regarding him as if it were an affront against nature that his neck was unbroken conveyed the apology had no effect. Kilgrave groaned, running his hand over his face. He winced as his thumb brushed the tender spot on his cheek.</p>
<p>“You don’t understand.”</p>
<p>“No, I’m pretty sure I get it,” Elise said. “You only treat people like people when it’s convenient for you, but then when you’re in trouble, they go back to being <em>things</em>.”</p>
<p>“It’s called survival!” Kilgrave said, throwing up his hands. “I’m just doing what everyone in my position would do if they had the chance, eh? I’m going to keep us <em>safe, </em>and I’m going to do it the bloody well best way I know how.”</p>
<p>“By forcing people to harbor someone on the run from the police?” Elise said, her voice rising. “And you’re talking about finding some random family and just hijacking their life!”</p>
<p>“I’m scared, Elise!” Kilgrave said. “I’m bloody fucking scared and I’ve never been this scared in my entire blasted life! I have no fucking idea what I’m supposed to do! Just tell me! Tell me what I’m supposed to do!”</p>
<p>Kilgrave was heaving, a pleading expression in his eyes as he regarded her. Elise discovered her mouth was open, and she quickly closed it.</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” she said, her tone much softer than before. Kilgrave groaned, turning his back to her as he looked out the window.</p>
<p>“You’re bloody useless, you know that?”</p>
<p>Elise scoffed. “I could’ve just let that woman take you. You know <em>that?</em>”</p>
<p>Kilgrave turned to peer at her. “What woman? You mean Jessica?”</p>
<p>For some reason, only now did Elise make the association. She had heard Kilgrave say the name over the wire, and she had met the woman with the black hair and the pain behind her eyes, but only now was Elise putting two and two together.</p>
<p>
  <em>'Don't let him turn you into me.'</em>
</p>
<p>There was a moment of hesitation as Jessica's words ran through her mind. Elise pushed them away and she lifted her chin. “Yeah, Jessica. She would’ve taken you if I hadn’t stopped her – if Tern and I hadn’t stopped her.”</p>
<p>The last thing she expected was for Kilgrave to storm over, eyes alight. “She could’ve killed you, you blasted idiot!” he said, brandishing a finger. “You had no bloody idea whether your ‘thing’ works on other gifts! She could’ve popped off your skull like a Champagne cork!”</p>
<p>“What?” Elise said, anger igniting in her gut. “She was supposed to <em>‘rescue’ </em>me! Why the hell would she try to kill me?!”</p>
<p>“Because Jessica has way more of a hard-on for getting back at me than for saving your sorry arse!” Kilgrave said. “And I don’t give two shits if your power works on her, you will <em>never </em>let her get close enough again to touch you, got it?”</p>
<p>“Well I’m not <em>planning </em>on getting that close to her again!” Elise said. “But we’re still supposed to be partners here, and you can’t order me around!”</p>
<p>Kilgrave’s nostrils flared. “Oh, and it’s bloody alright you can tell me how I’m supposed to use my ability, but I can’t do the same?”</p>
<p>“Yes!" Elise said, waving her arms. "Because that’s how this whole goddamn thing works!”</p>
<p>Kilgrave’s breathing was ragged; Elise felt his hot breath rolling over her face in short bursts. She held his wide-eyed stare, knowing that by every right she should be absolutely terrified. And she was, but in a way that was directed more at herself than anything. She was horrified by what she was feeling, and <em>how </em>she could possibly be feeling anything other than disgust when looking at Kilgrave.</p>
<p>It was easier to tell what he was thinking, at any rate; Kilgrave looked like he wanted nothing more than to shove her head into the wall.</p>
<p>
  <em>He won’t do it.</em>
</p>
<p>Elise swallowed and schooled her features. If he needed an easy exit, an excuse that allowed him to deflect, then fine.</p>
<p>“I’m goin–”</p>
<p>Whatever Elise was about to say was smothered by Kilgrave’s lips on her own. Her earlier assessment of Kilgrave’s intentions was confirmed as her head was shoved against the wall, Kilgrave forcefully sticking his tongue down her throat. Elise didn’t dare to move, which her partner took a few seconds to notice before finally pulling away. He was staring at her like a madman, which by all accounts wasn’t an inaccurate description of him on any day.</p>
<p>“Kiss me,” he demanded, eyes dancing over her face. “Like you mean it.”</p>
<p>Elise only continued to stare, her chest heaving. Kilgrave fought to keep a neutral expression as flashes of frustration struggled to the surface.</p>
<p>“Just …” Kilgrave looked away, eyes darting about like a prisoner searching for a weakness in their cell. “You can just … just go.”</p>
<p>Elise’s hands were on either side of his face as she pulled him to her. Kilgrave made a startled sound which quickly shifted into one of pleasure as he returned her fervor with full-force. Their tongues intertwined, Kilgrave wasting little time as he coaxed Elise into raising a knee, his hand sliding up her thigh. His fingers snaked to cup her bottom, giving it a squeeze using far more force than necessary. Elise inhaled sharply.</p>
<p>Kilgrave stepped away to slam the bedroom door closed.</p>
<p>“Take off your clothes,” he snapped. He watched Elise expectantly as she raised an arm, but she paused. Blue eyes slowly tracked up and down as if he were being sized him up. Kilgrave felt uneasy, not quite knowing what to make of the sensation.</p>
<p>“Take your waistcoat off,” Elise said. Kilgrave furrowed his brow.</p>
<p>Elise’s voice rose. “I said, take off your fucking waistcoat.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave regarded Elise as if she’s lost her marbles.</p>
<p>“NOW!”</p>
<p>Elise picked up the closest thing in reach, which happened to be the remote to a small TV sitting across from the bed. She slammed it down, the remote popping apart and spilling its insides in a cascade of buttons and springs.</p>
<p>Kilgrave looked at it, back to Elise, then back to the remote. He hastily started removing his waistcoat. He tossed it aside before making quick work of the buttons on his shirt. He was nearly halfway done when Elise spoke again.</p>
<p>“I didn’t say you could take off the shirt.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave froze. His fingers twitched, and Elise stared at them until he slowly started to re-button the white dress shirt. Her eyes met his, and she held his gaze until he had reached the nape of his neck.</p>
<p>“Take off your belt,” Elise said. She broke eye contact, drawing her hand along the top of the dusty television as she made her way across the room. The shuffling sound from behind her let her know that Kilgrave was doing as she had asked.</p>
<p>“Socks,” she said, keeping her back to him. Elise regarded the dust lining her fingers. She stared at it for a moment before dropping her hand.</p>
<p>“Slacks,” Elise said. She turned, watching Kilgrave lower the plum dress pants around his ankles before kicking them aside. When their eyes met, he was staring at her with an intensity indicating he would jump off a bridge if she asked it. This look, coupled with the bulge pushing against Kilgrave’s silk boxers, put to rest any doubt concerning his feelings toward the sudden change in dynamic.</p>
<p>“Shirt,” Elise said, stepping toward him. “Slowly.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave’s hands shook as he undid each button. His eyes tracked over Elise’s features as she came to a stop. She lifted a finger, leaving a grey streak behind as she ran it over the exposed white undershirt at his chest. If Kilgrave noticed, he didn't seem to care. He inhaled sharply, picking up the pace of undoing the buttons.</p>
<p>“Slow,” Elise said, placing a hand on his. Kilgrave’s hands jerked, and something ugly momentarily crossed his face. But he obliged, taking about a half a minute before the shirt opened completely. Elise placed her hands on his shoulders, delicately sliding the shirt over his arms. She tossed it aside, and Kilgrave bent down to kiss her. Elise moved her face away, watching him out of the corner of her eye as he studied her with an expression mixed with equal parts longing and irritation.</p>
<p>Elise leaned into his ear. “Get on the bed.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave slowly backed away. He sat on the edge of the bed, brown sheets with a repeating pattern of white circles deflating under his weight.</p>
<p>“Undershirt,” Elise said. She slid the light jacket off her shoulders. She had been told to dress nondescript that morning, so all she was sporting underneath was a plain green t-shirt and pair of deep-wash jeans. Elise pulled the t-shirt over her head, revealing the black bra underneath. Kilgrave finished pulling off his own shirt as he watched her, entranced.</p>
<p>Elise stepped around the scattered clothes and remote parts, shooting Kilgrave a passing glance as she made her way to the other bed. Jeans were pulled down to reveal a pair of black underwear before Elise took a seat. She slid the jeans off her legs, keeping her eyes lowered and moving in a slow, delicate fashion as if she were simply getting undressed at the end of a long day. She raised her eyes to meet Kilgrave’s, holding them there as she got to her feet.</p>
<p>Kilgrave watched with bated breath as Elise stopped just out of reach. She lifted her hands, and began undoing the hair tie holding her bun in place. Thick brown hair fell over her shoulders, and Kilgrave’s breathing grew more erratic.</p>
<p>“Lie down,” Elise whispered. Kilgrave made a motion to remove his boxers, hesitated, then drew his hands away before lying flat on his back.</p>
<p>“Good,” Elise said. She climbed on the bed, straddling him. “You’re beginning to learn.”</p>
<p>Elise lowered her face to his, Kilgrave letting out a hungry moan as their lips met. Elise’s hands dug into his hair, Kilgrave tracing his over her back, her ass, and her thighs. He had to stop himself from undoing the strap to the black bra on more than one occasion.</p>
<p>Kilgrave holding himself back from doing as he pleased caused a maddening feeling to grow in his gut. It was only an act, this helplessness, but the idea of being completely powerless while Elise used him for her own wiles fed an arousal that burned so strongly Kilgrave feared he might turn to ashes. He wanted to let that pent-up aggravation out – to give that wicked, ugly feeling to Elise so she could take it and twist it into something beautiful.</p>
<p>“I want you,” Kilgrave growled, brushing his lips along her neck.</p>
<p>“I figured as much,” Elise said.</p>
<p>“Don’t tease me.”</p>
<p>“If you want something from me,” Elise said, leaning into his ear. “Then beg for it.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave grunted. “You bitch.”</p>
<p>“That’s not a very nice thing to say,” Elise said, tracing a finger along the outline of his ear. “You’ll lose points for that.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave exhaled sharply. He turned his head to look Elise in the eye. “It’d be no use telling you to fuck me harder than you’ve ever fucked anyone before, would it?”</p>
<p>“I’d consider it,” Elise said, her finger now tracing along the bridge of his prominent nose. “What if I told you to do the same?”</p>
<p>“I was already planning on fucking you so bloody fucking hard you wouldn’t recall I have no power over you,” Kilgrave said, his gaze reflecting the crazed feeling spreading from head to toe. “I want to make you scream my name and forget that anyone else in this disgusting world exists.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave grabbed a clump of her hair, forcing Elise’s face to his. Elise let out a startled sound, but melted into the kiss as Kilgrave’s tongue danced around hers. It was a surprise, a few seconds later, when his hands cupped her breasts. She hadn’t noticed him unclasping her bra – and as his hands found her nipples, pinching them lightly between his fingers, she didn’t much care.</p>
<p>Elise’s panties were roughly tugged down. Warm fingers traced their way over her pelvis, lingering there for a moment before moving downward.</p>
<p>“You little minx,” Kilgrave said over Elise’s soft inhale. “It’s like an oil slick down there, innit? Here you were playing hard-to-get when you’re the one who should’ve been begging for it.”</p>
<p>A weak moan escaped Elise as Kilgrave flicked his fingers back and forth.</p>
<p>“Tell me you want me, Elise,” Kilgraved said. A whimper was all he got as an answer as his fingers started to move in a slow circle.</p>
<p>“Tell me you want me,” Kilgrave repeated, voice hoarse. “Or I’ll make you come right now without you getting the pleasure of having my dick between your thighs.”</p>
<p>Elise’s eyes cracked open. She took a sharp breath before speaking. “I’ll call that bluff.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave’s hand stilled.</p>
<p>“You already told me what you want to do to me,” Elise said, leaning forward. “And if you want to make that a reality, then you have to ask real nice.” She nibbled at his bottom lip for a moment before pulling away.</p>
<p>Kilgrave clenched his jaw. It was clear to both parties who was going to be victorious in this standoff, but a show needed to be made none-the-less.</p>
<p>“Please,” Kilgrave said, voice low. “Let me fuck you, Elise.”</p>
<p>“So polite,” Elise said with a smile. She reached down, pulling at his boxers. Kilgrave’s member swung free, slapping her lightly against the thigh.</p>
<p>“Aw, fuck,” Kilgrave said, his breathing growing more rapid. “Please, Elise. Oh, fuck.”</p>
<p>Elise positioned herself over him, slowly lowering her hips down.</p>
<p>“Oh, God!” Kilgrave exclaimed, throwing his head back as he entered her. “Oh, fuck!”</p>
<p>Elise let out a soft gasp, grinding in slow circles. “I hope you’re not too close, already.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave moaned, arching his back. Elise clasped onto his forearms, keeping herself steady as Kilgrave writhed beneath her.</p>
<p>“Don’t you …” Elise said, closing her eyes as she took a haggard breath. “Don’t you dare – not yet.”</p>
<p>It was unclear if Kilgrave heard her. His hands shot out, grasping Elise by the sides of her face and bringing her lips to meet his. The low vibrations of his sounds of pleasure reverberated through her as Kilgrave’s pace shifted to slow, hard thrusts.</p>
<p>Elise gasped. Kilgrave only let her come up momentarily for air, pulling her back to him as he continued the overwhelming assault on her senses. It wasn’t until a shudder ran through Elise that Kilgrave allowed himself a long breath.</p>
<p>“Like that,” Elise said, clinging to Kilgrave for dear life. “Oh, fuck, don’t stop.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave moaned, one hand digging into the flesh of her back while another tangled itself in her hair. He did as she asked, grinding his pelvis bone over her clit in deliberate thrusts. This caused Elise’s limbs to turn to jelly, and she sagged into him as the warm sensation in her abdomen started to spread.</p>
<p>“Kilgrave,” Elise whispered. The man beneath her inhaled sharply. The frequency of his bucking increased.</p>
<p>“Oh, God, Kilgrave,” Elise said, clutching his shoulders. “Oh, fuck, Kil–Kilgrave! Oh, fuck!”</p>
<p>Elise cried out, repeatedly forcing her hips forward as her entire body shook. This sensation, plus the intense throbbing now enveloping his dick, pushed Kilgrave over the edge.</p>
<p>“Oh, fuck me!” Kilgrave exclaimed. He slapped his hands over Elise’s ass, squeezing with all his might as he released into her. His hips quivered, and he fell back into the bed with a satisfied gasp. Elise’s head was resting on his chest, her breaths like cool bursts compared to the fire coursing through his veins.</p>
<p>Elise shifted. Kilgrave’s arms suddenly shot out, grappling her. He shushed her attempted inquiry as she tried to lift her head.</p>
<p>“Stay like this, Elise,” Kilgrave whispered. “Stay with me.”</p>
<p>A sensation like a drop of cold water running the length of her spine caused Elise to squeeze her eyes tight.</p>
<p>“I’m not leaving,” she said, the truth behind the words dragging her down; dragging her into Kilgrave as if the two of them were committing the act of osmosis and becoming one.</p>
<p>Elise suddenly felt very, <em>very </em>cold.</p>
<p>“Tell me you love me, Elise.”</p>
<p>Elise opened her eyes. She stared through the glass windows into the storybook landscape of New York City’s glittering lights below.</p>
<p>“That’s not how it works." Elise didn’t so much as hear but felt the wounded sound Kilgrave let out.</p>
<p>“One person says it, first,” Elise said, eyed fixed ahead. “Then the other says it back.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave tightened his hold, burying his face in her hair. “I love you, Elise.”</p>
<p>Two silhouettes stood against the night sky. Elise's old manager, Mark, stood motionless; deep purple blood oozed from his nose in a steady stream before dribbling over his chin. Her friend Tara smiled, a purple tear escaping the corner of her eye as is tracked down her cheek.</p>
<p>“I love you, too,” Elise said.</p>
<p>She watched Mark and Tara as liquid ran out their eyes, their ears, their mouths. Tara made a sound that was probably meant to be her name, but a gurgling noise was all that escaped her throat as the liquid continued to pour.</p>
<p>“You’ll never leave me, Elise.”</p>
<p>Elise closed her eyes, a tear falling down her cheek. She opened them again, her view of the skyline free from obstructions.</p>
<hr/>
<p>It was probably for the best she didn’t understand a word, since the harsh tone in the old lady’s voice carrying down the narrow hallway conveyed that Trish Walker was being called a number of expletives. Trish ignored her, continuing her assault on the door even as the old woman shuffled toward the elevator while shouting a term that was probably one of the few she knew by heart in her limited English vocabulary.</p>
<p>
  <em>Superintendent</em>
</p>
<p>Trish repeatedly slammed her palm against the door, threatening to break the new pane of glass that had only been installed just the other day.</p>
<p>“I’m not sure she’s there,” a voice behind her said.</p>
<p>The stranger raised his brows when he got a full view of the crazed look which was anything but natural on Trish's delicate features.</p>
<p>“She stopped eating the banana bread,” the young man said, his gaze dropping to the floor as he leaned to look around Trish. Sure enough, a plate bearing a brown saran-wrapped object sat in the corner. The plate had been front-and-center, earlier, before Trish had kicked it aside without a thought.</p>
<p>As if the man possessed the power to empathize telekinetically with baked goods, he shot her an apprehensive expression before lifting up the plate. When he straitened, he made sure the bread was out of Trish’s reach.</p>
<p>“You’re wrong,” Trish said. She cleared her throat with a shake of her head. “Not … not about the bread. I mean about her not being here.”</p>
<p>“Are you her sister?” the man asked, breaking into a smile. His companion frowned at the unexpected change of topic.</p>
<p>“I read online you and Jessica were sisters. I had to go to the library, though. We don't own a computer because of the fascists. Although it said you two aren't real sisters, just adopted. I have a real sister. We’re twins, so that’s about as real as it can get unless we were clones, maybe.”</p>
<p>Trish caught her mouth hanging open. Her teeth came together in a soft click.</p>
<p>“Uh,” she said. “Yeah.”</p>
<p>“I’m Ruben, I live upstairs,” Ruben said, unperturbed. “When I noticed Jessica didn’t take the bread yesterday, I got worried about her … and mice. Robyn says we don’t have to worry about mice since we sleep facing east. But last time I left bread out for someone and they didn’t take it, it was because they were missing. It was him, right there –”</p>
<p>Ruben paused to indicate the door over his right shoulder with a wave of the banana bread.</p>
<p>“Yeah, um,” Trish said, wondering what planet this guy was from, since she was pretty positive it wasn’t Earth. “Malcom … something, right? Jess went looking for him when someone mentioned he hadn’t been home for a few days.”</p>
<p><em>Finding a heap of pictures of her in his apartment also turned out to be a great motivation factor, </em>Trish thought.</p>
<p>Jessica had eventually found Malcom in a drugged-out stupor nearly thirty blocks away. A band of homeless men and women liked to camp outside an abandoned shoe factory, and according to Jessica, it was a well-known spot for junkies and dealers to hang out.</p>
<p>Sure enough, there was Malcom, the color drained from his face and looking like death incarnate. He was in the hospital for over a day after she admitted him before he was lucid enough to talk. Jessica had discovered Kilgrave was using Malcom as an informant. Or, he <em>had </em>been, up until a few weeks ago. It was when Malcom’s steady supply of drugs had run out that he had ventured elsewhere to get his fix.</p>
<p><em>“What does it mean?” </em>Trish had asked, watching Jessica as the other woman stared at the glowing vending machine in the hospital lobby as if the device had something to offer far greater than Doritos or KitKats.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Why did Kilgrave suddenly stop?”</em>
</p>
<p>Jessica gave the vending machine a shove hard enough to knock half a dozen or so items free. Trish didn’t realize until later that Jessica was deflecting; the thought suddenly hitting her that she had been so busy chastising Jessica over the incident, the question went unanswered.</p>
<p>A heap of snacks had been left at the foot of Malcom’s bed before the stomp of thick boots heralded Jessica’s departure from the hospital. Trish had been left making awkward small talk with the man before excusing herself in a more polite manner.</p>
<p><em>You were afraid your hunch was right, </em>Trish thought, thinking back on that day. <em>You were afraid Kilgrave had sunk his hooks into Elise, just like what he had done to you. No…worse. Because Elise actually has a choice.</em></p>
<p>“…Maybe he’d developed an allergy to walnuts. Robyn says allergies can develop based on what you expose yourself to, and it makes sense heroin would make you allergic to walnuts.”</p>
<p>Trish was drawn back to the present as her face twisted in confusion.</p>
<p>“So, then I made blueberry bread, but he didn’t take that either,” Ruben continued. “That’s when I told Jessica I thought he wasn’t home. But I guess he still isn’t home, huh?”</p>
<p>Trish opened her mouth, but clearly the question had been rhetorical.</p>
<p>“He’ll be in rehab for a couple weeks,” Ruben said with a thoughtful nod. “Robyn is pretty happy about it – she’s all for getting the bad toxins out. She says this entire city is full of toxins and everyone should be cleansing themselves to realign their centers.”</p>
<p>“Uh…”</p>
<p>“Is Jessica not here because she’s in rehab?” Ruben asked, raising his brows.</p>
<p>“What?” Trish said. “What—no. No.”</p>
<p>
  <em>Not yet, anyway.</em>
</p>
<p>The door behind Trish opened with a click.</p>
<p>“Can you hens go do your clucking <em>anywhere </em>else?” a hunched figure in a black hoodie snapped.</p>
<p>“Hi Jessica!” Ruben said, his face lighting up. He kept the genial expression as the hunched figure elbowed her way past Trish to snatch the plate out of his hand. The door was on its way closing again when Trish risked life and limb to shove herself in the way.</p>
<p>“I hope you li–”</p>
<p>The remainder of Ruben’s statement was cut off as the door slammed in his face. Trish had her back to it, her jaw dropping in horror as she took in the state of Jessica’s apartment.</p>
<p>“Oh, my God, Jess—were you robbed?!”</p>
<p>“The only thing I have here worth taking is the booze,” Jessica said, shoving a slice of banana bread into her mouth. “Shince thasstill her, then no.”</p>
<p>Trish side stepped a couch cushion as she made her way into the living room. Glass shards were scattered in the far corner, and a large brown stain had seeped into the hardwood floor. Bits of torn and crumpled paper surrounded the desk, Jessica not bothering to move any of it aside as she dropped the plate down on a pile. A snap caused Trish to pause as she noted the remnants of a laptop keyboard underfoot.</p>
<p>“Jesus, Jess. What the hell happened?”</p>
<p>“Penny Westcott happened,” Jessica said, kicking her heels up onto her desk as she leaned back.</p>
<p>“Are you serious?” Trish said, eyeing the scene in disbelief. “Jess, she can’t just come in here and wreck your home.”</p>
<p>“Yes, she can,” Jessica said. She reached into a drawer, producing an unopened bottle of whisky. The bottle was half empty a moment later when it was drawn away from her lips.</p>
<p>“Jess, this isn’t OK,” Trish said, imploring. “You don’t deserve this.”</p>
<p>“You’re right.” Jessica didn't meet Trish's gaze, choosing instead to stare up at the ceiling. “I deserve much worse.”</p>
<p>“Jess.”</p>
<p>Trish moved around the desk. Jessica leapt from her chair, backing away with her arms raised and a crazed look in her eyes as if Trish had been moving in to do something far more nefarious than a simple embrace.</p>
<p>“Did you see it on the news?” Jessica said, voice low. The defeated look she received in return was an answer clear as day.</p>
<p>“He was right there,” Jessica said, lip quivering. “He was right fucking <em>there, </em>Trish. Right across the goddamn street. All I had to do was pull my head out of my ass for long enough to look outside your goddamn window.”</p>
<p>“Hey,” Trish said, her tone soft as if trying to calm a spooked horse, “it wasn’t just you, OK? It was my apartment he had holed up by. If anything, I’m the one who sho–”</p>
<p>“I’m a goddamn PI, Trish,” Jessica spat. “Someone who calls themselves a fucking professional should be expected to notice something so blatantly obvious; not a washed-up radio personality.”</p>
<p>Trish’s expression shifted to one Jessica had seen plenty of times before – that “I-still-love-you-but-that-was-a-low-blow” sort of look. It never failed to make Jessica feel like total shit.</p>
<p>“I had met her before,” Trish said. “Helen Tanner – the woman whose apartment Kilgrave was in. She was one of the few real estate moguls who didn’t leave me wanting to gauge my eyes out after talking to them for more than five minutes. She invested a lot of her time and money in affordable housing for low income families.”</p>
<p>Trish swallowed, a haunted look behind her eyes. “I last saw her at a charity benefit; I promised her I would reach out about doing a segment. I forgot.”</p>
<p>There was a sharp inhale as Trish dabbed at the corners of her eyes. “I could’ve called. If I’d just called, maybe I would’ve known something was off. I could’ve tried taking her up on her offer to come over for coffee, and I would’ve seen something was wrong.”</p>
<p>“He’d kill you,” Jessica said, the anger seeping out of her like a slowly deflating balloon. “He knows who you are, Trish. The entire reason he picked that apartment was probably just to fuck with me. He would’ve used you as bait and then had you kill yourself when that sick fuck didn’t need you anymore.”</p>
<p>Trish looked away. It was like she was absorbing all of the anger draining from Jessica. She bit her bottom lip. “Do you think he killed her? Helen?”</p>
<p>Jessica sighed, running a hand through her dark hair. “Jesus, Trish – I don’t know; probably.”</p>
<p>“You have to help her,” Trish said, eyes darting back to Jessica. “You have to save Elise Stratford.”</p>
<p>Jessica laughed, although neither of the women found it amusing.</p>
<p>“I think she made it pretty clear she doesn’t want to be saved,” Jessica said. She lifted the bottle of whisky to her lips and took another long swig.</p>
<p>“She needs you, Jess,” Trish said, brow drooping. “You’re the only one who knows what Kilgrave is and who can take him on. You’re the only one who can save her.”</p>
<p>Jessica finished off the bottle. She looked for a surface to set it on, found none, and opted to toss it on a wayward couch cushion instead.</p>
<p>“They added Elise as a possible conspirator for the Prescott Incident,” Jessica said, sauntering back to the desk. “She’s also listed as an accomplice concerning the four cops who got injured during the warehouse raid. Elise is fucked no matter what I do.”</p>
<p>A few seconds of rummaging through a drawer produced a bottle of cheap bourbon. Jessica delicately worked to peel off the seal, knowing even a touch of too much force would be disastrous. This became more of a problem as her facilities slipped away, and the previous bottle of whisky was really starting to do the trick.</p>
<p>The sound of rushed footfalls caused Jessica to look up, and the bottle of bourbon was jerked out of her hands.</p>
<p>Well, not really – when Trish tried to pull, Jessica tightened her hold, and the entire thing shattered.</p>
<p>“Damn it, Trish!” Jessica cursed, mouth agape as she stared at the brown liquid seeping into her clothes. Half the papers on the desk were now sopping wet, and if her apartment didn’t already smell like a seedy dive bar, then it sure as hell would now.</p>
<p>“Aw, shit,” Trish said, sticking her thumb in her mouth. This caused her companion’s eyes to immediately grow wide in concern.</p>
<p>“Oh no. Oh fuck. I don’t have any fucking bandaids – let me grab some tape.”</p>
<p>“A towel is fine!” Trish said, temporarily removing her thumb as Jessica disappeared into the kitchen.</p>
<p>After what sounded like an elephant parading through a hardware store, Jessica returned with a dishtowel in hand. It was dubious how clean the object was, but Trish still accepted it and pressed her thumb against the off-white cloth.</p>
<p>“You owe me booze,” Jessica said, eyeing Trish up and down. There was a scowl on her face, but Trish knew it had more to do with checking her over for more injuries than it did resentment over the broken bottle.</p>
<p>“You’re tougher than I am, Jess,” Trish said, watching a crimson stain slowly spread through the fabric in her hands.</p>
<p>“Obviously.”</p>
<p>“Not this,” Trish said, indicating her thumb. “I didn’t want to be saved, either, back when I was on those pills and my entire life was falling apart without me giving a shit.”</p>
<p>Trish raised her eyes, a steady blue locking with an apprehensive hazel. “But you <em>made </em>me want to be saved, Jessica. You showed me what I had to lose by not coming back. You showed me what my life had become, how everything else I used to care so fucking much about was slipping between my fingers.”</p>
<p>Jessica broke their gaze with a shake of her head. “It’s not the same.”</p>
<p>“It <em>is</em> the same,” Trish said, brows furrowed. “It’s an addiction, Jess. And there’s going to be a way to pull her out of it.”</p>
<p>Jessica waved the notion away. “They’re probably on the other side of the world by now, if they’re smart.”</p>
<p>“<em>Is</em> Kilgrave smart?”</p>
<p>This caused Jessica to pause, an inquisitive look behind her eyes as she stared into space.</p>
<p>“You <em>know </em>him, Jess,” Trish said, picking up steam. “I know that it’s … it’s absolute shit that you have to pull up those memories, but you <em>know him. </em>You can piece together what he’s doing, what he’s telling her. I know you said Elise sided with Kilgrave, but what if he’s lying to her? If he’s telling her he’s a different person than who he really is, then throwing that back in his face might make Elise second guess everything!”</p>
<p>Jessica shook her head again, although her eyes were now wandering over her desk, her fingers curling as if itching to sort through the scattered papers.</p>
<p>“He could’ve told her,” Jessica said in a voice that clearly conveyed she didn’t believe it.</p>
<p>“Would he?” Trish asked, raising her brows. “Based on your knowledge – based on your gut – do you really think he would?”</p>
<p>Jessica met Trish’s intense stare. She smirked. “Kilgrave would tell her his shit smells like roses.”</p>
<p>A slow smile crept up Trish’s face. “You’re good at what you do, Jess. Find what you need, track down Elise, and tell her what she needs to hear. Smack some sense into her like you did your stupid sister.”</p>
<p>Jessica took a deep breath and looked over the papers scattering her apartment. Over a minute of dead silence passed, but an intangible shift was happening around them. When Jessica's eyes finally found Trish's again, the corner of her mouth lifted.</p>
<p>“Alright,” Jessica said. “Get the hell out – I got work to do.”</p>
<p>“Want any help?”</p>
<p>“No,” Jessica said. Her expression turned sheepish. “Thanks. But I need to do this on my own. You’ll bleed all over everything, anyway.”</p>
<p>Trish scoffed in feigned indignation. “Fine. But you need to invest in some bandages. I mean … tape? Really?”</p>
<p>Jessica grinned, “Out.” She pointed toward the door.</p>
<p>“Go get ‘em, tiger,” Trish said, shooting her a wink. Jessica rolled her eyes.</p>
<p>“Don’t ever do that again!” Jessica shouted as Trish slipped out the door. It was hard to tell if she meant the cheesy nickname, or everything that preceded it.</p>
<p>Jessica ran a hand through her hair, frowning when she noticed her glove was still damp with bourbon. She pulled the fingerless gloves off with a sigh and tossed them into a corner. Jessica squatted down and began to pick up everything she had collected on Elise Stratford ... while simultaneously pulling up memories she would rather forget about Kilgrave.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The windows of the blue town car were tinted, but Elise still sported an oversized pair of sunglasses that threatened to swallow up her face. Paired with the scarf around her hair and the opera gloves, she felt like a 1950’s starlet returning from a stint in rehab.</p>
<p>She’d been fiddling with the gloves, slowly pulling the material off each finger one at a time before adjusting the white satin and starting the whole process over again, when the sound of scraping metal caught her attention. A nondescript door closed with a click, and Kilgrave and Tern crossed the short parking lot toward the car. Gannet started the engine as Tern slid into the passenger seat and Kilgrave joined Elise in the back. Kilgrave’s hair ruffled as he tossed aside a plain baseball cap. The material of Elise’s gloves crinkled; her fingers intertwined with a hand larger than her own.</p>
<p>“Sorry to keep you waiting, petal,” Kilgrave said, adjusting himself into a relaxed slouch as he gazed at the retreating building. “Bloody idiots in there had to be reminded they’re on a deadline.”</p>
<p>Elise’s expression hardened. “Did you hurt them?”</p>
<p>Kilgrave scoffed. “Only their pride.”</p>
<p>Elise’s eyes shifted to Tern. The man was looking straight ahead, expressionless. Elise’s frown deepened, and she pulled her hand out of Kilgrave’s grip.</p>
<p>“Aw, come on, babe!” Kilgrave said, his voice transforming into a whine. “I didn’t <em>really. </em>And they’re in a lab with bandages and all that – that’s far more than necessary to handle a wound from a stapler.”</p>
<p>“I told you to stop,” Elise said, crossing her arms and looking out the window.</p>
<p>“Well they won’t listen if you don’t make them,” Kilgrave said in defense. “And you’re the one who told me I bloody well better make the visit quick, so you shouldn’t make those sorts of demands if you know what the outcome will be.”</p>
<p>Elise didn’t speak, continuing to stare out the window. This caused her companion’s expression to darken.</p>
<p>“Don’t ignore me,” Kilgrave said, voice low.</p>
<p>“Why are we still here?” Elise asked, garnering him the attention he demanded, but refusing to do so in the manner he wanted. “Why does this injection even matter? We can just leave.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave let out an unamused huff. “Do you honestly think I <em>like </em>the idea of anyone running ‘round out there who won’t listen to my commands? Do you think that makes me feel safe?”</p>
<p>He was regarded with a look of disbelief. “Are you serious? Do I <em>threaten </em>you now?”</p>
<p>Kilgrave made a startled sound. He coaxed Elise to relax her arm, and he reassuringly stroked her hand. “Of course not, petal! I’m talking about Jessica, obviously.”</p>
<p>“Who cares?” Elise said. “Who cares if there’s <em>one </em>other person on this planet who won’t listen to you? Jessica can’t read minds or see the future or anything – we can just leave and she’ll never find us!”</p>
<p>Kilgrave shook his head. “No, no. You don’t know Jessica. She’ll keep coming after me no matter what, mind.”</p>
<p>Elise studied him for a moment before pulling her lips back in a sneer. “Is that really how it is, or just how you want it to be?”</p>
<p>Kilgrave’s face shifted in confusion. “Huh?”</p>
<p>Elise pulled her hand away again. She turned from him, Kilgrave letting out a dramatic whine.</p>
<p>“I didn’t even bloody do anything!” he said. “Why’re you mad at me now?!”</p>
<p>Elise didn’t answer. The expression on Kilgrave’s face hardened, and his voice came out in a low hiss.</p>
<p>“You’ll answer me when I ask you a question.”</p>
<p>There wasn’t a single peep from the other side of the car as Elise gazed out the window. Her head was unexpectedly turned to the side as Kilgrave grasped her chin. Tern, who had been doing nothing but stare ahead like a living Ken doll, blinked several times as if waking from a trance.</p>
<p>“Answer me, Elise,” Kilgrave said, something dark shifting behind his gaze. The object of his scorn finally spoke.</p>
<p>“You’re hurting me.”</p>
<p>Gannet kept his eyes on the road, but Tern was staring intently into the rearview mirror. He watched the stare-off going down in the backseat, which ended when one member broke their gaze and lowered his hand.</p>
<p>“I don’t like doing that to you,” Kilgrave said, adjusting the lapels of his jacket in an attempt to appear casual. “I don’t know why you bloody insist on pushing me like that.”</p>
<p>“If you don’t like it,” Elise said, her words laced with ice, “then don’t do it.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave’s eyes found hers. “You–”</p>
<p>“Do you want me to leave?”</p>
<p>The effect was almost immediate – Kilgrave’s demeanor flipping on a dime as panic washed over his face. He was once again a boy of twelve, waking up one morning to find his parents were simply <em>gone</em>.</p>
<p>“No,” Kilgrave said, his voice wavering. He cleared his throat, speaking again in a steadier tone. “No.”</p>
<p>Elise offered him her hand. Kilgrave took it, squeezing her fingers for dear life.</p>
<p>“Oh, petal,” he said, using his free hand to gently brush the pink splotches along her jaw. “I’m sorry, Elise. You know I am, don’t you?”</p>
<p>A nod was given in response, and a semblance of emotion finally crossed Elise’s face as her lip quivered. Reassuring sounds escaped Kilgrave as he cupped her face and peppered her with kisses.</p>
<p>“There now, don’t fret,” Kilgrave said. “I’ll make you feel all better when we get back to the flat, yeah? You’ll like that, won’t you?”</p>
<p>The next kiss was long, hard, and what many would consider entirely inappropriate in the company of others. Kilgrave was vaguely aware of this in the same way anyone else would be if they were being watched by the family pet. For Elise’s sake, though, he fumbled around until he found the button for the partition between the front and back seats. The black pane of glass rose to create a divide, the low electronic hum coming to a stop when the world around them was entirely blocked out.</p>
<p>Elise allowed herself to be guided down until her head rested on the seat. Sunglasses and a scarf were pulled away as Kilgrave straddled her. His voice came out in a low thrum as he cooed into her ear.</p>
<p>“I’ll take care of you Elise, so don’t you worry. I won’t let anyone touch you.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>My first time on a trip outside New York in ten years, and it’s this hellhole. The commercials never mention the smell. I guess I can’t blame them.</em>
</p>
<p>Jessica made a face as she kicked aside a pamphlet for a topless bar. “It’s hot as balls out here.”</p>
<p>“Havin’ some regrets about packing that leather jacket, Jones?” Detective Costa asked, hitting her with a smirk. Jessica rolled her eyes, following Costa’s lead as he motioned for her to take a left. They strode in tandem down the sidewalk, neon lights burning into their retinas every time they bothered to glance up. It would’ve been a little easier to see had they ventured out during the day, but even Costa concurred he’d rather be out and about in the evening due to the stifling heat.</p>
<p>Most of the gaudy displays fell away into businesses geared toward less amusing activities than gambling and all you can eat buffets. There was another set of gleaming lights, but this time it was illuminating the text of a towering building up ahead. It was like a beacon guiding them to their destination, and Jessica’s heart beat a little faster as they approached the hospital.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Getting into a morgue is a lot easier when you have a badge. It helps especially when it’s a morgue over two thousand miles away from home where nobody recognizes you.</p>
<p>A tall man with a buzz cut crossed his arms. “Glad someone was finally able to get an ID on her.”</p>
<p>Jessica didn’t raise her eyes. She stared down at the corpse lying on the metal table with a blank expression.</p>
<p>“I’m glad your guys picked her up,” Costa said, putting his hands on his hips. He took a deep breath, shaking his head. “Jesus, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a case of dehydration like this.”</p>
<p>“Welcome to Nevada,” their companion said, no hint of the summer heat hitting his words.</p>
<p>“Hey,” Jessica said, raising her eyes. She frowned, regarding the Las Vegas detective as her mind whirred. “Uh …”</p>
<p>“Alcado,” her companion said with a smirk. “Ruiz is OK, too.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, thanks, sorry,” Jessica said. “Ruiz – your file said you guys were still tracking down the driver who took her to the desert, right?”</p>
<p>“I was just about to mention that,” Ruiz said. “The limo company called in the morning, and we had the driver give his statement a few hours back.”</p>
<p>Costa crossed his arms. “And?”</p>
<p>Ruiz exhaled, his shoulders sinking. “Weirdest suicide I’ve seen in a long time. Apparently, Ms. Tanner called the limo company a few hours before her plane landed. This guy was there to pick her up, then drove to her destination at Death Valley park.”</p>
<p>“Any suspicion on the driver?” Costa asked.</p>
<p>Ruiz shrugged. “No motive. His times check out, and the company has all the cars outfitted with GPS. They showed me the record of his vehicle driving from the airport to the park and back with no delay, just like he said. Ms. Tanner’s credit cards and ID are still missing, but some footage we were able to dig up from the airport is leading us to think she trashed her wallet before getting in the car.”</p>
<p>“And he didn’t think it was weird?” Jessica said with a scowl. “He didn’t have a single thought tumbling around his tiny brain that dropping some well-dressed broad out in the middle of the desert was unusual?”</p>
<p>Ruiz tilted his head, garnering Jessica with an expression that caused her eyes to narrow.</p>
<p>“I can’t blame him if he didn’t,” Ruiz said. “I think it’s crazy, myself, but you wouldn’t believe what some folks like to do boiling away out there. I’ve seen work retreats, Christmas parties, and even weddings in the middle of that godforsaken place.”</p>
<p>Costa nodded in contemplation. “Did the driver ask Ms. Tanner why she was going all the way out there?”</p>
<p>Ruiz returned the nod. “He said birthday party. When we pressed him on it, he remembers Ms. Tanner saying she didn’t know why she had to be there, but that a man told her she should. She was all dressed up, according to him, so the driver figured it was a spouse or relative setting up a surprise.”</p>
<p>A loud bang rang through the air as the autopsy table shuddered. Jessica turned away and ran her hands through her hair. “That motherfucker!”</p>
<p>“Hey, Jones! Don’t go kickin’ their shit!” Costa said, eyeing the dent in the table leg he hoped would go unnoticed.</p>
<p>Ruiz watched Jessica pace for a moment before his eyes slid back to Detective Costa. “This woman is attached to the Stratford case, right? I think you mentioned it was Ms. Tanner’s place the abductor held Elise Stratford for the past few months?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, that’s right,” Costa said, his eyes still on Jessica.</p>
<p>“You think he had something on her?” Ruiz said, regarding the body. His mouth stretched into a thin line as he took in the shriveled skin and empty sockets. “I can’t imagine what kinda shit you’d have to have to compel someone to strip naked in the desert and wander into the middle of nowhere.”</p>
<p>Whatever Jessica said as she departed was drowned out by the stomp of her boots and the clank of the door bouncing against the wall. Detective Costa watched the door swing closed with a dour expression.</p>
<p>Ruiz frowned. “Where’s she off to?”</p>
<p>“The nearest place to buy booze,” Costa said, turning back to Ruiz. A weary sound escaped his lips as he regarded the body of the woman who only committed the crime of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.</p>
<p>“The man who did this to her,” Costa said, voice low. “Let’s just say he’s got a way with words.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Pryce Cheng was anything but a fool.</p>
<p>He was smart enough to know he should close up his office, tell his employees to stay home, and get the hell out of Dodge. There was a court appearance he had to make for a high-profile client, but the second Pryce strode out of the courtroom – the cheesy smile falling from his face – he made a straight shot for the airport.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The private jet was waiting on the tarmac. Pryce shot a man in sunglasses a quick nod as the door to the jet swung open. There was a glass of rosé waiting for him next to the large, plush seat near the middle window. The sound of the door closing was intermingled with a weary sigh as Pryce took a seat.</p>
<p>“Long day at the office?”</p>
<p>The muscles in Pryce’s chest constricted. The hand that had been halfway to grabbing the glass of wine remained frozen in place as his eyes slowly tracked up.</p>
<p>“Funny we should meet in a place like this,” Kilgrave said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the metal door of the cockpit. “Bit of a contrast to where we had a chinwag last time, innit?”</p>
<p>Pryce Cheng’s survival instincts kicked in, and they certainly weren’t anything to scoff at.</p>
<p>“It’s the same model as Tony Stark’s,” Pryce said, his face relaxing into an easy smile. “I’m sure a vehicle like this would do you a lot of good about now.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave appeared intrigued by the remark. “Yeah?”</p>
<p>“That,” Pryce said, rising to his feet in a cautious manner, “and the cottage in the Belgium countryside that’s completely off the grid.”</p>
<p>A thoughtful frown graced Kilgrave’s features. He tapped a finger against his arm as he studied Pryce, the object of his attention appearing entirely at ease as he waited.</p>
<p>“I want the address for the cottage,” Kilgrave said.</p>
<p>“Yeah, man. No problem.” Pryce held up a palm. His other hand reached into his pocket, and slowly produced a black phone. “I’ll text you the details when I’m on my way back to my flat.”</p>
<p>“Or you could do it right now, unless you want me to order you to eat that goddamn phone.”</p>
<p>Pryce regarded Kilgrave as if he were being an unruly child. “You have to understand I need to keep some precautions, right?”</p>
<p>“Oh, I understand,” Kilgrave said. “I’d be pissing myself if I were in your shoes. I’m sure you <em>really </em>didn’t expect me to make it out of that raid alive, yeah? Tell me the truth, now.”</p>
<p>“I thought you were dead for sure.”</p>
<p>Pryce’s smile wavered, worry flashing behind his eyes over his unexpected confession. His heart rate increased as Kilgrave opened his mouth, and he knew he would only have one chance to act before his free will was stripped away.</p>
<p>“Guess that makes it the second time you outdid me,” Pryce said, cutting Kilgrave off. “I underestimated you; that was a mistake, clearly. I’ll pay for it by giving you everything I have – the plane, the villa, money, even my wine collection.”</p>
<p>A sunny expression overtook Pryce’s face as he made his way to the short cooler behind the seat. This caused Kilgrave to scoff as he rolled his eyes.</p>
<p>“Considering the dribble that pilot set out for you when I arrived,” Kilgrave said, “I have a feeling I’m not going to be very impressed.”</p>
<p>A sharp click drew Kilgrave’s eyes back to Pryce. The man had a crazed look on his face as he held up a handgun. The look morphed into panic when he realized he hadn’t taken the safety off.</p>
<p>Kilgrave’s face twisted in rage. “Oh, you little–!”</p>
<p>The safety lock was corrected, and Kilgrave dove behind the metal door just in time to miss the ricocheting bullet.</p>
<p>“STUFF THAT BLOODY THING IN YOUR MOUTH!”</p>
<p>Kilgrave cautiously leaned around the door. The fearful expression dissipated when he got a good look at Pryce; the other man heaving as a shaking hand held the handgun in his open mouth.</p>
<p>“You fucking wanker!” Kilgrave said, stepping around the door. He approached his target, and Pryce let out a fearful whine from around the stick of metal.</p>
<p>“You daft, cocky little piece of shit!”</p>
<p>Dark eyes roved over Pryce’s terrified features. Anger shifted into a smug expression as Kilgrave chuckled.</p>
<p>“Oh,” Kilgrave said, his voice low. “You think you’ve got it bad now? Oh, no – you can’t even <em>imagine </em>what I’m going to have you do. A bullet to the head would be kind by comparison.”</p>
<p>The pitiful sounds coming from Pryce gave Kilgrave the impression that the man was fruitlessly trying to beg for his life. The sounds died away as something over Kilgrave’s shoulder caught Pryce’s attention.</p>
<p>Kilgrave turned to regard the figure who’d stepped out from the cockpit. The woman, still clearly rattled from the earlier commotion, steadied herself against the doorway. Kilgrave kept his eyes locked on Elise as he spoke.</p>
<p>“Well, aren’t you a lucky man? This lovely creature is the only thing keeping you among the land of the living. I hope you’re bloody grateful, Mr. Cheng.”</p>
<p>Pryce showed just how grateful he was by lunging for the emergency exit. The door popped off the aircraft with a bang, followed by the loud hiss of the inflatable slide springing into place. A flash of his black loafers was all that was left of Pryce as he went tumbling down the slide. His descent was anything but graceful, since one hand was still held firmly against his face. Elise joined Kilgrave in the threshold, and they stood in shock as they watched Pryce bounce to the bottom.</p>
<p>Another loud bang caused Elise to flinch, and she would’ve toppled out of the plane herself if Kilgrave hadn’t been there to steady her. She absently rubbed the sore spot where his chin had banged into the back of her head as she looked at the door that had swung open.</p>
<p>“Go after him!” Kilgrave said, regarding the frazzled-looking Tern. The guard made an affirmative sound, disappearing as he dashed down the stairs. Kilgrave returned his attention outside the emergency exit, although something about Pryce’s cooler caught Elise’s eye; her brow furrowed as she studied the objects spilling from within.</p>
<p>Pryce himself was struggling to his feet as he finally found asphalt. He snapped to attention as Tern jumped down the last few steps of the stairs and reached for the pistol in his holster.</p>
<p>Kilgrave watched, in almost slow motion, as Pryce drew the gun away from his mouth.</p>
<p>“Oh, Fu–”</p>
<p>The rest of the expletive was drowned out by the sound of the gun fired point-blank in Tern’s direction. The man remained standing for a second, only able to stare at Pryce with the one eye he had left. His knees buckled, and Tern collapsed face-first onto the runway.</p>
<p>Kilgrave looked on in horror as Pryce turned. The man shot him a fearful glance, then put his back to the plane as he began to run. He made it a few paces before Kilgrave cried out, cupping his hands over his ears from the unexpected gunshot that rang through the air. He cautiously opened his eyes to regard the form of Pryce Cheng now writhing on the asphalt as a pool of blood spilled from his stomach.</p>
<p>Kilgrave's ears were filled with a high-pitched ring. He recognized the way Elise’s lips twisted when his eyes tracked over to his left. Tears were falling freely down her cheeks, and her gloved hands were shaking from the intensity of where they were gripping the small handgun. Kilgrave’s eyes darted between Elise and Pryce for a moment before he roughly grabbed her by the elbow. He guided Elise to the exit, practically dragging her down the stairs. Her step faltered as they passed Tern, but Kilgrave didn’t break his stride as they soon caught up to the man leaving a trail of blood that contrasted sharply against the runway.</p>
<p>“Kill him!” Kilgrave said, shoving Elise forward as if she were a rooster in a cock fight. The command was met with a wide pair of blue eyes regarding him in shock.</p>
<p>“You saw what he tried to do to me!” Kilgrave said, gesturing to Pryce. “He deserves to die! Kill him!”</p>
<p>Elise’s breathing grew frantic. She glanced between Kilgrave and Pryce, keeping the gun lowered. In the distance there was the sound of screeching tires, and a blue town car came barreling into view. Gannet had likely received a transmission when Tern’s heart monitor went flat, and needed to act quick.</p>
<p>“Come on!” Kilgrave said, frustration creeping into his tone.</p>
<p>Kilgrave pressed himself against Elise’s back, resting his head on her shoulder as he steadied her aim. Elise stared at the back of Pryce’s head as the man continued to claw his way forward.</p>
<p>“You already shot him once, Elise,” Kilgrave said, his breath tickling her ear. “You already resigned yourself to killing him, yeah? This is just finishing what you started.”</p>
<p>Elise's gaze shifted to Tern, her expression crumbling. "I didn't ... he ..."</p>
<p>Pryce made a gagging sound. His steady crawl came to a halt as he paused to cough up a glob of black blood. With great effort, Pryce turned his head to look up at them. It was debatable how much he could make out, based on the hazy look behind his eyes, but Pryce had his focus on Elise as dark liquid dribbled from the corner of his mouth.</p>
<p>“Hey!” Gannet called out. He had hopped from the car, and was busy dragging Tern into the backseat. “We need to move!”</p>
<p>“He tried to kill me,” Kilgrave said, squeezing her arms tighter. “And we can’t have that – not one bit.”</p>
<p>The pressure ebbed away, and Kilgrave took a step back. Elise shifted her attention to lock eyes with Pryce. She became vaguely aware of the sound of sirens growing in the distance.</p>
<p>“Give him what he deserves, Elise.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Jessica leapt out of the cab. She broke into a run, weaving between the gaggle of onlookers and the emergency vehicles on scene.</p>
<p>
  <em>Just when you think it can’t get any worse ...</em>
</p>
<p>“Hey!” an officer cried, failing to catch the cuff of her jacket as Jessica ducked under the yellow police tape.</p>
<p>
  <em>It gets way, way worse.</em>
</p>
<p>“Costa!”</p>
<p>Detective Costa paused his statement to the two women he’d been addressing as he looked over his shoulder. The one wearing the hazmat suit turned away, while the other – Detective Sunday – put on a disapproving scowl at Jessica’s approach.</p>
<p>“This is a closed crime scene,” Sunday said.</p>
<p>“Jones is the only reason we knew about the jet,” Costa said.</p>
<p>The police had been scoping out Mr. Cheng’s residence, but it wasn’t until less than an hour ago when they received a frantic call from Jessica that they jumped into action to catch the man before he fled the country. That problem was, however, no longer an issue.</p>
<p>“Aw, fuck,” Jessica said. She stopped a few paces short of Pryce, getting down to a squat as she studied the bullet hole between his lifeless eyes. “God fucking damnit.”</p>
<p>“Language, Ms. Jones,” Sunday said, crossing her arms. “This is a <em>professional </em>investigation.”</p>
<p>Jessica ignored this remark entirely as a new slew of expletives escaped her lips. She got to her feet, cursing out the world itself as she ran a shaking hand through her hair.</p>
<p>“Hey, Jones,” Costa said, approaching her with raised palms as if she were a wild animal. “Calm down, OK?”</p>
<p>“She killed him,” Jessica said, voice breaking. “That’s it. It’s too late, I can’t–”</p>
<p>“Kilgrave killed Mr. Cheng,” Costa said, his voice firm. He received a look as if he’d told a distasteful joke.</p>
<p>“Kilgrave doesn’t–”</p>
<p>“Kilgrave,” Costa said, keeping his eyes locked with Jessica’s, “killed Mr. Cheng.”</p>
<p>Jessica’s eyes wandered over Costa’s face. The observer of this standoff soon lost interest as the stare stretched on.</p>
<p>“I’m gonna go do my <em>job,” </em>Detective Sunday said, shooting them both apprehensive looks. “Feel free to find me when you’re ready to do the same, Costa.”</p>
<p>Sunday strode across the tarmac, followed by the swish of her black dress pants. She chatted with an officer at the foot of the metal stairs for a moment before making her ascent into the jet.</p>
<p>A steadfast expression fell over Jessica’s face. She shook her head as her hands balled into fists. “The murder weapon is going to prove Kilgrave didn’t pull the trigger; that asshole doesn’t do his own dirty work.”</p>
<p>“Guess it’s a good thing we don’t have the murder weapon,” Costa said with a shrug. “We’ll just have to fill in our own narrative of events, starting with the fact that it was Kilgrave who shot this man.”</p>
<p>Costa glanced at Pryce, let out a sigh, and began walking toward the large bloodstain at the foot of the jet.</p>
<p>Jessica let out a scoff. She jogged to catch up to Costa. “Jesus, and I thought I was crooked.”</p>
<p>“I’m doing what I need to in order to sleep at night, Jones.”</p>
<p>“Have you tried getting shit-faced? Works like a charm.”</p>
<p>“I’m sure it does.” Costa stopped beside the spatter of congealed blood. He put his hands on his hips, eyes darting over the paper markers and the trail of blood leading away from the aircraft.</p>
<p>“Someone else got shot,” Jessica said, her face etched with worry.</p>
<p>“Not Ms. Stratford,” Costa said in an attempt to put her at ease. The apprehension behind Jessica’s eyes switched to something more hopeful, and Costa exhaled sharply before continuing.</p>
<p>“Not Kilgrave, either.”</p>
<p>“You’re certain?” Jessica said, glancing away from the stain.</p>
<p>“Forensics thinks it was a man, but one with a frame a lot bigger than Kilgrave’s,” Costa said. “It may’ve been one of Pryce’s guys, or it may have been that guy we saw with Kilgrave and Ms. Stratford in the security video. The video quality is grainy as all hell – so we can’t get an ID that way – but if we’re lucky, we’ll get a lead when the DNA comes back.”</p>
<p>Jessica grunted. Something familiar overcame her as she took in the scene. Detective Costa waited, watching as Jessica slid the pieces into place.</p>
<p>“Kilgrave still has resources,” Jessica said, focusing on nothing in particular. “He was able to track down Pryce, then flee from the scene. You guys pick up any sightings?”</p>
<p>“Nothing,” Costa said, sounding bitter over the fact.</p>
<p>Jessica nodded. “Then he’s still listening to Elise."</p>
<p>“Think so?”</p>
<p>“She told me she thinks he can do good,” Jessica said, weariness creeping into her tone. “Kilgrave’s going to keep up appearances until he breaks her. And that’s…that’s going to be soon, if this didn’t already do it.”</p>
<p>Costa’s mouth set into a firm line. He looked away out of politeness as Jessica roughly wiped her face.</p>
<p>“So, here’s the rub, Jones,” Costa said. “The thing Sunday and I are having trouble figuring out is why this plane is still here. The pilot was scared shitless, but we found her huddled in the cockpit when we arrived. Kilgrave could’ve ordered her to take off well before any of us were on the scene. So, why the hell would Kilgrave stay when he had such an easy out?”</p>
<p>Jessica exhaled from her nose. She bit her lip, staring at the side of the plane.</p>
<p>“He came here to kill Pryce,” Jessica said after a minute. “I’m pretty goddamn sure of that.”</p>
<p>Costa’s brow furrowed. “I thought you said he was playin’ nice?”</p>
<p>“He’d find a way to twist it around to make it seem justified,” Jessica said. “Pryce fucked him over, and there’s no way Kilgrave would let that slide.”</p>
<p>“So, he only came here to kill Mr. Cheng,” Costa said. “Why wouldn’t he also take the opportunity to leave? What the hell does he gain by staying here?”</p>
<p>At this, Jessica smirked. Costa raised his eyebrows, turning to face her as she spoke.</p>
<p>“He’s still here because there’s someone else who fucked him over.”</p>
<p>Jessica’s smile widened, "And that means we have another chance." She stuffed her hands in her leather jacket, walking away. Costa lifted his arms in a defeated motion.</p>
<p>“Jones!”</p>
<p>Jessica didn’t answer. This caused Costa to put his hands on his hips as if she were a misbehaving child. “There needs to be some give and take here, Jones! You don’t have to do this all on your own!”</p>
<p>“Call me if you find something interesting,” Jessica said. She stepped under the police tape, lost in thought.</p>
<p>
  <em>If that asshole is so hell-bent on taking everything from me, then I guess it’s time for me to do the same.</em>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>Mr. and Mrs. Nielzek were on sabbatical in Bucharest, Romania. In the meantime, their housekeeper continued to check in on the cozy three-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn. He would arrive once a week to water the plants, do some light dusting, and make sure everything was in order.</p>
<p>One day, the apartment was very unexpectedly occupied. The housekeeper was on edge, for a moment, before the British man who looked like some sort of executive with his tailored suit and slicked-back hair put any and all doubts to rest. It turns out the Nielzek’s had a stroke of luck, and found that their good friends the Smiths were graciously able to keep an eye on the apartment in the housekeeper’s place. There was a bit of guilt, since the Nielzek’s had paid him all upfront, but again the British man put him at ease saying that he should consider the extra money a gratuity for a job well done.</p>
<p>It turned out to be a good thing the housekeeper had the extra cash, anyway, since for some reason later that day he found himself tossing his phone down a sewage drain. This was after he inexplicably deleted all contact info for the Nielzek’s on every platform, including any contact info to anyone who would be able to get it back. For some reason this didn’t bother him, and he figured he could get in touch with them via Mr. Smith if he ever really needed to.</p>
<p>But his thoughts made it very clear he would never need to.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Kilgrave grinned, leaning forward in his seat. “Aw, this is the best part! CGI holds up and everything, yeah?”</p>
<p>He was enraptured as the T-1000 turned to liquid metal and squeezed itself between the bars. It took him a moment longer watching Sarah Conner lose her shit before he noticed his companion hadn’t spoken.</p>
<p>“For almost thirty-years-old,” Kilgrave said, turning away from the television. “It still looks ace, yeah?”</p>
<p>Elise was staring ahead, but her gaze seemed to be fixed on a point just below the television. It appeared she was far more interested with the media center and the little blue light on the blu-ray player than anything on screen.</p>
<p>“Oi,” Kilgrave said. He reached over the couch to tap her on the elbow. He was careful not to touch her skin, since Kilgrave wanted to ensure the housekeeper would have plenty of time to trash his phone and get rid of all ability to contact the owners of their current residence before coming back to his senses. It was a pain, but better than the headache he’d get from hearing Elise whine about taking someplace occupied.</p>
<p>“Huh?” Elise looked up. She regarded Kilgrave as if he’d just awoken her from a nap.</p>
<p>“Bored, are you?” Kilgrave said, bitterness creeping into his tone. “Can’t even be bothered to <em>pretend </em>to watch something with me, eh?”</p>
<p>Elise looked at Kilgrave as if he were speaking a language she didn’t understand. Most of what she mumbled was unintelligible, but the word ‘bathroom’ was picked up before Elise rose from the couch. She moved in an almost mechanical manner across the living room before disappearing into the adjacent hallway.</p>
<p>Kilgrave let out a dramatic groan. He turned the volume of the television up, watching the movie with a sour expression. By the time the main characters made it to the steel mill, his lids were drooping and he had to fight to keep himself from nodding off. It was at this point he became aware Elise had been gone for quite some time.</p>
<p>There was a sigh, and the screen went dark. Kilgrave pushed himself from the couch and glanced to the kitchen and the man sitting behind a laptop.</p>
<p>Gannet didn’t acknowledge him, seemingly absorbed in one task or another that hopefully avoided their capture. There had been a promise more protection would be arriving within a day or two, which Kilgrave sure as hell hoped to be true, since being down to only one guard wasn’t going to cut it. In the past, Kilgrave would’ve snagged any able-bodied person on the street for the job. This was, however, no longer an option.</p>
<p>At least for now.</p>
<p>“Elise,” Kilgrave said, knocking on the bathroom door. He waited, but no answer came; there was also an uncharacteristic lack of light pouring from the crack onto the carpet. Knuckles were once again tapped against the wood in a more urgent matter.</p>
<p>“Petal?”</p>
<p>No answer. Kilgrave turned the handle.</p>
<p>It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, and he had a bit of a start when he noticed the dark blob in the tub. With a flick of a switch, the blob turned into Elise, her eyes squinting against the light.</p>
<p>“What the bloody hell are you doing?” Kilgrave said, frowning.</p>
<p>Confusion turned to concern when Elise lifted her arms. They were shaking so violently she almost smacked herself in the face when she cupped her palms over her ears. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and she appeared to shrink into herself as if she were a hedgehog curling into a defensive ball.</p>
<p>“Aw, petal, what is it?” Kilgrave said, kneeling beside the tub. “Is it because of what I said earlier about the movie? You don’t have to worry about that, yeah? We’ll put on something you want to watch; how about that baking show you’re always going on about? That’ll be good, hmm?”</p>
<p>Elise’s voice came out in a pained croak. “I want to go.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave raised an eyebrow. “Go?”</p>
<p>“I don’t want to be here,” Elise said, lifting her head. Her breathing grew ragged as her eyes darted over his face. “We can’t be here. We have to <em>go.”</em></p>
<p>Kilgrave gave her the sort of smile one gives a child requesting to fly cross-country to Disneyworld at the drop of a hat. “Soon, petal, alright? Just one more trip to the lab, then we’ll be all set.”</p>
<p>Elise let out a whine. She looked about the room like a fox backed into a corner by a pack of hounds.</p>
<p>“Please,” she said, her voice taking on a tone to match the shakiness of her hands. “I can’t … I can’t.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave reached out. He paused, turning his wrist to regard his watch. A pucker touched his lips before the hand was withdrawn.</p>
<p>“No worries, eh? I’m not going to let anything touch us. A week from now, we’re going to look back on this and laugh from a little café in Venice.”</p>
<p>Elise furrowed her brows. “Venice?”</p>
<p>“You like Venice,” Kilgrave said. He sat and crossed his legs, positioning himself like an excited grade-schooler anticipating a good story. “And all those other touristy places like Paris and Amsterdam and Barcelona, yeah? We’re going to see them all, and live like kings while we’re doing it.”</p>
<p>The frantic nature behind Elise’s eyes had faded, but it had been replaced with something else undesirable. “How?” she asked. “You said we only have enough money left for the security company. That’s why we went to find–”</p>
<p>The rest of the statement died on her lips. Elise took a sharp breath – the memory of her finger curling around a trigger and a pair of pleading black eyes filled her senses. The alarmed nature returned as she pressed her palms against the sides of the tub as if the object had begun to sway.</p>
<p>“Ah,” Kilgrave said, the lie floating to the top as naturally as a bubble rising to the surface, “a refund of what I paid Mr. Cheng was only for here in the U.S; I have more than enough stowed away in foreign accounts to have us set for life. It’s all taken care of, Elise – so don’t fret, hmm?”</p>
<p>Kigrave’s sentiments fell on deaf ears. His companion’s breathing had grown shallow, and she was staring at the brass handles of the tub as if they’d come to life. She remained frozen in this way for a moment before the world unexpectedly went dark again.</p>
<p>A yelp escaped Elise as a green towel enveloped her. Apparently, there was an impression that much like a bird, Elise would calm down with the rest of the world shut out. This action was, surprisingly, effective.</p>
<p>“Alright, alright,” Kilgrave said, patting the towel in an absent manner, “no worries, yeah? Let’s calm down so we can get out of the bloody bathroom.”</p>
<p>The towel shifted, but Elise made no motion to stand. Kilgrave continued to pat the fluffy material as he occasionally checked his watch with a sigh.</p>
<p>Elise’s muffled voice cut the silence. “Am I a bad person?”</p>
<p>Kilgrave scoffed. “What kind of stupid question is that? Of course not – you’re too much of a goody-two-shoes, if I’m being honest. You could save yourself a lot of stress if you learned to live a little.”</p>
<p>Elise mumbled something.</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“I …” The word hung in the air before the rest of the thought came crashing down with it.</p>
<p>“I killed someone.”</p>
<p>“So?” Kilgrave said. “You don’t think those blokes up there in their glass tower don’t go flying ‘round killing bad guys all day? That’s like a normal Tuesday for that lot.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave pulled away as the towel slowly lifted. The material was wrapped around Elise’s shoulders as her red-rimmed eyes looked up at him. “But that’s different.”</p>
<p>“How is it different?” Kilgrave said, throwing up his hands. “We’re one of them now, yeah? Running ‘round trying to save people and all that. We just put down another one of the baddies – just like they would.”</p>
<p>Elise still seemed uncertain. “But was Mr. Cheng <em>bad?”</em></p>
<p>“He tried to kill me!” Kilgrave said, amazed she was missing the point. “That bloody well makes him a bad guy, don’t it?”</p>
<p>Elise broke their gaze, her fingers wringing through the green material. Something melancholy flashed across her face. “He killed Tern.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, see? He did, didn’t he? That made him a villain right there,” Kilgrave said, picking up steam. “And you remember how he was about us rescuing those girls, don’t you? Like it was just a transaction to him or some nonsense. Mr. Cheng had it coming, in my opinion.”</p>
<p>Elise sniffed and wiped her face on the towel. Kilgrave gave his watch another glance, looked back to Elise, and let out a long sigh.</p>
<p>“Alright, budge up.”</p>
<p>A pair of wide eyes observed Kilgrave as he climbed into the tub. He squeezed himself next to Elise, holding her from behind as he rested his chin in her shoulder.</p>
<p>“What about the housekeeper?” Elise asked. This was met with a shrug.</p>
<p>“Been seven hours. Should be more than enough for the bloke to have done what I asked.”</p>
<p>A guilty expression crossed Elise’s features. “I’m sorry. I’m … I’m not …”</p>
<p>“I used to hide in the tub, too, when I was a kid,” Kilgrave said, turning his head to meet her gaze. “The bathroom was the only place I could go where I didn’t have to worry about my parents barging in and dragging me to the lab. They caught on, after a fashion, but for a while that dingy little bathroom with the rusted knobs and the faded pink tub was the only place I felt safe.”</p>
<p>This elicited a sympathetic smile. Kilgrave’s expression brightened, and he chuckled as a memory floated to the surface.</p>
<p>“Oh, my mum would get frothing at the mouth,” Kilgrave said, his gaze growing distant. “We only had one bathroom, and when she was home, she had to take a piss what felt like every twenty bloody minutes or so. I <em>hated </em>the way her screeching used to get.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave did his best to raise his voice by a few octaves as his features grew pinched. <em>“Kevin, if your father has to remove the door from the frame to drag you out of there, then heaven help you, because I sure wont!”</em></p>
<p>A scoff escaped his lips. “Threats like <em>that </em>didn’t continue for much longer after I had a say, I can tell you.” He looked back to Elise to notice she was regarding him with an expression he couldn’t place. “What?”</p>
<p>“Kevin?” Elise said, as if she couldn’t believe it. A chuckle escaped her lips as Kilgrave groaned. “I would’ve never guessed, in a million years, that your name is Kevin.”</p>
<p>“Well it’s a bloody stupid name, innit?” Kilgrave said. <em>“Kevin. </em>Changed it the first chance I got.”</p>
<p>“So it says ‘Kilgrave’ on your papers and everything?” Elise said, her companion picking up on the teasing nature of the inquiry.</p>
<p>“Don’t be daft,” Kilgrave said. “I didn’t think up of it until I’d been on my own for a few years. It was probably when I was around seventeen, I think.”</p>
<p>The smile fell from Elise’s face. “You moved out when you were still a kid?”</p>
<p>“No, I stayed. It was my parents who left,” Kilgrave said. His gaze began to wander over the room, a trait Elise had learned to mean they were broaching on an uncomfortable topic. “I moved around a lot, after a fashion. I always have. I had hoped to be able to stay in that penthouse for a spell, since that’s where it all began between you and me. I liked that.”</p>
<p>Elise loosened her hold on the towel so she could grasp his hand. Kilgrave didn’t look at her, but he squeezed back.</p>
<p>Elise offered, “Maybe we can find a place to stay for a while?”</p>
<p>A smile caught Kilgrave’s lips. “Somewhere <em>domestic. </em>I’ve stayed with families in places like that before, but there was just something … <em>off.”</em></p>
<p>“I wonder.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave responded to the sarcastic tone with an insulted look. “Oh, <em>har har. </em>Maybe I should reconsider spending the rest of my bloody days with a wanker like you.”</p>
<p>“But you’ll need me,” Elise said. “I know how to work a grill.” Her eyes sparkled as Kilgrave huffed.</p>
<p>“It’s the husband who works the grill, not the wife,” Kilgrave said, as if it were common knowledge. “You’d do stuff like organizing bake sales or hosting Tupperware parties or some such things.”</p>
<p>Elise raised her brows. “OK – <em>sexist. </em>Seriously, I would be the one working the grill if we wanted anything even resembling something edible. And if <em>you </em>want to throw a Tupperware party like we’re back in the 60’s, then by all means, go nuts.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave regarded her as if she’d just suggested he take a trip to the Moon. “I could do without your sass, got it? I just want things to be the way they’re <em>supposed </em>to be for people living out there. Like with the yard, and the dog, and me coming home and you taking my coat and us sitting down for dinner. That’s just <em>normal, </em>innit?”</p>
<p>“Was ‘Leave it to Beaver,’ like, your favorite show or something?” Elise said. The arms around her shoulders were withdrawn, and Kilgrave muttered to himself as he staggered out of the tub.</p>
<p>“I just …” Elise steadied her thoughts as Kilgrave turned to face her. “I just think I’d be happy, no matter where we were. Just as long as we still … you know, weren’t apart.”</p>
<p>It was now Elise’s turn to look away. Her eyes only went back to Kilgrave when he squatted down to her level.</p>
<p>“You mean that?” he asked.</p>
<p>Elise nodded.</p>
<p>“Really?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Elise said, her tone curt. There was still an air of suspicion behind Kilgrave’s eyes, but the look melted away as a goofy grin adorned his face.</p>
<p>“Alright, then,” Kilgrave said. “You get to man the grill.”</p>
<p>Elise accepted his offer to help her to her feet. The towel fell away, and they walked hand-in-hand out of the bathroom.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“Jesus Christ.”</p>
<p>There was so much tubing, it was hard to tell where the man stopped and the machines began. Everything one would expect in a stereotypical hospital room filled with equipment that was required to keep a person alive against nature’s judgement was present. Well, except for Jessica Jones, who sat with her legs spread apart and a scowl on her face as she watched the man in the bed begin to stir.</p>
<p>“You sure about this, Jones?” Costa said, closing the door behind him. His eyes lingered on the nurse adjusting an IV drip before bringing his attention back to the PI. “We had this guy pegged as a suicide attempt. There was a hell of a lot of evidence that he just snapped, plain and simple.”</p>
<p>“Killing someone off by making it look like a suicide is Kilgrave’s MO,” Jessica said, keeping her eyes on the patient. Something dark flashed across her features. “I watched some dude jump eight stories to his death when he joined his friend in line in front of us. Kilgrave could’ve told the guy to go to the back – but he made him jump.”</p>
<p>Jessica made a sound between a sigh and a scoff as she leaned back. “We were standing in line for some fucking opera bullshit; the seats were even fucking assigned. That man died for no reason.”</p>
<p>Life and limb were risked when Costa placed a hand on Jessica’s shoulder. She didn’t move, but regarded him as if he’d just plopped cat vomit on her jacket. “The fuck are you doing?”</p>
<p>“It’s called empathy, Jones,” Costa said, giving her shoulder a pat before withdrawing.</p>
<p>“Don’t do that,” Jessica said as she crossed her arms. “It’s weird.”</p>
<p>“Noted.”</p>
<p>The man in the hospital bed let out a sudden gasp. His eyes opened in a manner that made it seem like it took monumental effort to do so. He squinted at Jessica and Detective Costa as if they were miles away.</p>
<p>“Can he hear us?” Jessica said, glancing at the nurse. “Will he be able to answer our questions?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, he can hear you,” the nurse said, showing displeasure over Jessica’s curt tone. “But his vocal cords are still damaged. He can write a little, however his muscles have atrophied so he can’t be pushed too far.”</p>
<p>Jessica made an affirmative sound as she leaned forward. Her eyes remained steadfast with the patient’s, unblinking.</p>
<p>“Get him something to write with.”</p>
<p>Costa was quick to reach into his jacket. He produced a pen and small notepad, placing them into Jessica’s waiting palm. The objects were slid over the cream-colored sheets and came to a rest just shy of tan fingertips.</p>
<p>“One line for yes, two lines for no,” Jessica said. “Let’s get this out of the way to make sure we’re not wasting everybody’s time: did Kilgrave tell you to kill yourself?”</p>
<p>The man’s hazy gaze turned sharp. His eyes danced between Jessica and Costa as if they’d appeared from thin air.</p>
<p>“Did Kilgrave ask you to kill yourself?” Jessica said again, her voice rising.</p>
<p>“Jesus, Jones,” Costa said. “Give the man a minute.”</p>
<p>“We’re running out of minutes to give,” Jessica said. She stared down the man in the bed, and it wasn’t until he reached for the pen that the bounce in her leg stopped.</p>
<p>Shaking fingers brought the pen to paper and a single, wavy line was drawn. The pen tip still rested on the notepad, but the man’s gaze fixed itself on Jessica.</p>
<p>“Mr. Pérez,” Costa said, putting the pieces together. “He was missing for months before getting picked up by the coast guard. Do you think he was with Kilgrave this whole time?”</p>
<p>Jessica didn’t need to answer, because the pen was already moving. Another shaky line was drawn, this time the man’s dark gaze lingering on Costa.</p>
<p>“Anton Luis Pérez disappeared from his job as the head chef at Per Se restaurant on April 14<sup>th</sup>,” Jessica said, her voice steady. “The day before his disappearance, a waitress recalled a British guy in a purple suit requesting to give his compliments to the chef. Patrons wishing to speak to the chef wasn’t an unusual circumstance – in fact, it wasn’t even the only time it had happened that day. And not a single person thought to look any closer, since the alias this man used checked out.”</p>
<p>Costa exhaled sharply from the perceived insult. Jessica didn’t acknowledge this as she plowed on.</p>
<p>“Mr. Pérez’s whereabouts were unknown until security footage picked up a man jacking an old rowboat from the docks of a fishing line manufacturing plant. By the time the footage was reviewed and police arrived, Mr. Pérez had been at sea for hours, and the coast guard needed to be called. They had almost caught up to him, when they observed Mr. Pérez tearing the boat to pieces. He was airlifted to the hospital, suffering significant damage to his lungs and multiple breaks and fractures from where he fought against his rescuers in an effort to drown himself.”</p>
<p>A wet, raspy sound escaped Anton. His lungs had already been shot from years of smoke damage, and the whole drowning bit wasn’t doing him any favors. From his chart, Jessica surmised he was going to be put on an oxygen tank and walk with a limp for the rest of his life.</p>
<p>But despite all that, he got lucky. It wasn’t often anyone was able to make it out the other end when dealing with Kilgrave. A pang of solidarity shot through Jessica as she watched a tear slide down Anton’s cheek – the droplet getting caught in the cracks of peeling skin still recovering from sun damage. She leaned over and used the back of her fingerless glove to wipe it away.</p>
<p>“I need your help, Mr. Pérez,” Jessica said, her tone much kinder than before. “I need to find that asshole and stop him. If you have <em>anything </em>about where he might be since Kilgrave left that penthouse, anyplace at all – tailor, watch dealer, fucking barbershop – it doesn’t matter. I just need to get on his trail.”</p>
<p>There was the unexpected reaction of Anton’s heart rate jumping. His features twisted in frustration as he struggled to write out a word. The nurse leaned over the bed, seemingly enraptured in the events unfolding as they used their hand to steady the tremor in Anton’s arm.</p>
<p>
  <em>‘ELISE?’</em>
</p>
<p>Jessica’s frame deflated. “She’s–”</p>
<p>“Kilgrave is still holding her prisoner,” Costa said. He was shot an apprehensive look by Jessica, who knew that the term ‘prisoner’ wasn’t entirely accurate.</p>
<p>Quick inhales of breath accented a look of relief. Anton attempted a vain effort to steady himself before once again bringing pen to paper.</p>
<p>
  <em>‘LAB’</em>
</p>
<p>“Lab?” Jessica said, lifting her brow. “What lab?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Be back in a tick, petal.”</p>
<p>“You don’t want me to come in?” Elise asked, looking over Kilgrave’s shoulder at the nondescript building as he stepped out of the SUV.</p>
<p>“No need,” Kilgrave said. “It’s like getting a flu shot, yeah? In and out – easy as pie.”</p>
<p>Elise wrung her hands in her lap as apprehension flashed behind her eyes.</p>
<p>“We talked about this, petal,” Kilgrave said, his smile growing less natural.</p>
<p>“I know, sorry,” Elise said, looking to her lap. “I’m just worried.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave’s lips flapped as he exhaled. The other backdoors of the car slammed shut as three men stepped onto the pavement. Their gazes swept over the parameter before coming to a stop behind Kilgrave.</p>
<p>“I’m getting tired of having to bloody repeat myself,” Kilgrave said, exasperated. “You’re being awful selfish right now – you know that? I’ve been bending over backwards to give you everything you want, and now you’re coming back and telling me I can’t have the one thing <em>I </em>want. How the hell is that even fair?”</p>
<p>Elise’s whisper was hardly audible, “I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave took another deep breath. “It’s fine. Just wait here.” The door closed with a click, and Elise watched the group of retreating figures as they approached the building. She couldn’t make out what Kilgrave was saying as the group disappeared inside.</p>
<p>Elise’s gaze lingered on the blue steel door for some time as if she expected it to open any second. As if she thought Kilgrave may change his mind. As the minutes ticked by, it became apparent that wasn’t going to be the case. She dropped her eyes as she began to pull the gloves on her hand loose, one finger at a time.</p>
<p>There was a tap on the window. The two guards in the front seat regarded the woman leaning against the passenger door with suspicion. The window opened marginally before addressing her.</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“Can I bum a smoke?” a sultry voice asked. The guard in the passenger seat scoffed, the window closing with a soft whir.</p>
<p>A loud, screeching sound of metal being torn apart filled the air as the passenger door was flung off its hinges. The guard was yanked out if his seat, joining the door as he was tossed aside.</p>
<p>The driver lifted his palms in submission as the woman slid into the passenger seat. Jessica’s face broke into a grin.</p>
<p>“Oh look, someone with brains. Unless you want to end up like your buddy, get the fuck out.”</p>
<p>The driver – Gannet – locked eyes with a terrified Elise. A frown settled over his features.</p>
<p>“Tern cared about you,” Gannet said, his voice much softer than one would assume coming from a man of his size. “He didn’t deserve what he got.”</p>
<p>Gannet stepped out of the SUV, accompanied by the dinging noise made as a reminder that the keys were still in the ignition. He kept his hands up, and didn’t react as Jessica slid into the driver’s seat and slammed the door closed.</p>
<p>“W-wait,” Elise said, looking between Gannet and Jessica. The car lurched forward, Jessica letting out a string of curses as she shifted the SUV into gear and peeled out of the parking lot.</p>
<p>There was a cry as Elise smashed against the door. The SUV swayed, righting itself as Jessica got her bearings.</p>
<p>“Wait!” Elise said, struggling to sit up. The car swayed again when it sped through a red light to a chorus of honks.</p>
<p>“Just calm down, OK?” Jessica said, adjusting the seat with a grunt. Once she found that she was better able to reach the peddles, she began to fiddle with the mirror. “I got you a ride to Brazil. Some stuff and a passport with your new identity will be on the plane. Just memorize it the best you can on the flight, then when you get down there you can start over.”</p>
<p>Elise’s head was spinning. She steadied herself against the back of the driver’s seat as she tried to process the information. “What … what are you talking about?”</p>
<p>“I’m getting you the fuck out of here because none of this is your fault,” Jessica said, taking a sharp right. “Kilgrave won’t be alive by the time the police get there, but if by some miracle he is, he’s gonna get taken in. He’s the only one who needs to be punished – not you.”</p>
<p>Elise struggled to push back the hair whipping around her face. She positioned herself to grip the back of the passenger seat. “What do you mean ‘he won’t be alive?!’”</p>
<p>“That shit he’s injecting himself with?” Jessica said, glancing at her. “It would kill anyone else. For Kilgrave, the chances of him surviving are about one in six.”</p>
<p>Hazel eyes returned to the road with a hiss as the car jerked to a stop. They’d hit a wall of traffic, and Jessica leaned her head out the window. “Move it, assholes!”</p>
<p>Elise stared at her in disbelief. “He didn’t say that.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, well, I bet there’s plenty of shit that fuckwad didn’t tell you,” Jessica said, settling back in her seat. “You told me he stopped killing people, right? Well the fact that Helen Tanner is a literal husk, and Anton Pérez was nearly fish bait, begs to differ.”</p>
<p>Her breaths grew short as Elise shook her head. “No! Anton went to Colombia!”</p>
<p>“Anton tried to drown himself in a rowboat that wouldn’t make it to fucking Martha’s Vineyard, much less Colombia,” Jessica said with disgust. “He’d be at the bottom of the harbor if Kilgrave had his way.”</p>
<p>“You’re lying,” Elise said, failing at keeping the tremor from her voice. “He doesn’t hurt people like that anymore.”</p>
<p>“Maybe not,” Jessica said, turning to face her. “He just gets other people to do it, right?”</p>
<p>The memory of Jessica cursing and clutching her shoulder as blood soaked through her glove floated to the surface of Elise’s thoughts. It intermingled with another hand drenched in blood; this one grasping a stomach wound that left a streak along the tarmac like a slug’s trail.</p>
<p>
  <em>‘Don’t let him turn you into me.’</em>
</p>
<p>A weak sob escaped Elise. Her eyes darted about, and Jessica sprang into action.</p>
<p>“Hey, hey!” Jessica said, gripping Elise by the wrists. “Just calm down! You’re not going anywhere, got it? That asshole isn’t worth it, Elise!”</p>
<p>Jessica had taken the precaution of wearing a pair of leather gloves. What she wasn’t prepared for was Elise headbutting her in the face.</p>
<p>“Fuck!”</p>
<p>The sudden shock of her strength being ripped away caused Jessica to lose her grip. She recovered, but not before Elise had flung open the backdoor and sprinted out the car.</p>
<p>“Elise!”</p>
<p>Jessica may’ve been weak, but that didn’t mean she was out of shape. It took her less than a block to catch up to Elise, but her assault came to a halt when the other woman rounded on her.</p>
<p>“Stop!” Elise said, holding up the object she’d pulled from her purse. She was hardly able to hold the gun steady against the tremor in her hands.</p>
<p>“Goddamnit,” Jessica said, raising her arms. There was a shout from a man passing by, and the other pedestrians scurried away amid cries of alarm. Jessica did her best to keep her focus on Elise as frustration threatened to overtake her. “Elise, you can’t go back there. The cops will arrest you, too. It’s not just Mr. Cheng – they have you pegged for assisting with what happened to Detective Clemons and the cops who got injured at the warehouse. They’re going to ship you to the Raft and throw away the key. <em>Don’t </em>do this.”</p>
<p>The gun was lowered, but only marginally. “He’s not a bad person,” Elise said, her voice barely audible.</p>
<p>“You know that’s not true,” Jessica said. “He’s evil, Elise. He’s killed people, raped people, robbed people … and God fucking knows what else. I spent almost a year with him, Elise, and I fucking <em>know </em>what it’s like – he’s not human.”</p>
<p>The handgun was about knee level, now, but Jessica didn’t dare to make any sudden movements.</p>
<p>“He just … doesn’t understand,” Elise said, staring at her hands. “He’s not like that anymore – he’s changed.”</p>
<p>Something bitter escaped Jessica’s throat in the form of laughter. “Oh yeah, big change. He had every fucking opportunity to get the hell out of Dodge, but that dumbass stuck around just so he could get back at me; not a single thing about him has changed.”</p>
<p>Elise whimpered. Her companion dared to lower her hands, letting them fall limply at her side. She took a cautious step forward, but Elise shifted back.</p>
<p>“Did he tell you?” Elise said. “Did he tell you about what happened to him when he was kid?”</p>
<p>Jessica frowned. “What?”</p>
<p>“What about his name?” Elise said. A tear rolled down her cheek, and she momentarily took a hand off the gun to wipe it away. “Did he tell you what his real name is?”</p>
<p>“Hey,” Jessica said, offering her palms in a placating manner. “If he told you that stuff, it was only to manipulate you. You don’t even know if what he said was real, Elise.”</p>
<p>This wasn’t the answer Elise was expecting. Clarity parted behind her eyes, but it was quickly swallowed up by panic.</p>
<p>“Elise–”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” Elise said. The apology was followed by a deafening bang.</p><hr/>
<p>Swift footsteps filled the hall. Kilgrave swung his legs around, sitting up on the examining chair as the sound grew louder.</p>
<p>“Elise?” he said, frowning as a frazzled looking Elise rushed into the room. She made a relieved sound, stepping forward with her arms outstretched.</p>
<p>“Ub, bub, bub!” Kilgrave said, holding up his hands. Elise came to stop, watching him with a worried expression.</p>
<p>“I told the doctor not to call you in for the test until after the second injection. What are you doing in here?”</p>
<p>One of the guards cut her off before Elise could speak. “She says the authorities are on their way,” he said. “Our scanners confirm they have the area staked out, and they’re setting snipers up for when we exit the building.”</p>
<p>“Aw, fuck,” Kilgrave said, his eyes wandering over the room. “Shit – how did they find us? Ah…doesn’t matter. If the first injection worked, then I should be able to take care of them with just a phone call.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave hopped to his feet. He went to roll down his sleeve, paused, then turned to the doctor standing in the corner of the room. “Bring the second injection – I’ll take it when we get settled somewhere closer to an exit.”</p>
<p>The doctor mechanically obliged. He was right on Kilgrave’s heels, almost bumping into the man when Kilgrave came to a stop.</p>
<p>An eyebrow was raised as Kilgrave regarded Elise. Her shoulders slumped, and she took a step back so he could pass without brushing up against her.</p>
<p>“It’s only temporary, petal,” Kilgrave said, rounding the corner. “I’ll have you in my arms soon enough; once all this blasted testing and police business is taken care of.”</p>
<p>Elise fought to get a glimpse of the back of Kilgrave’s head around the group filling the cramped hallway. “So, it’s not dangerous?” she asked. “It won’t hurt you, right?”</p>
<p>“Who told you that?” Kilgrave said, turning to peer at her.</p>
<p>Elise opened her mouth, closed it, then found her voice. “I just wanted to make sure.”</p>
<p>They stepped into an open-spaced area dotted with more examination chairs, these ones sporting restraints. The room looked like it may have been a dentist’s office once, but the looming cabinets filled with jars of liquid in all shapes and sizes, along with coolers plugged in haphazardly around the room, made it apparent that it had been a long time since that was the case.</p>
<p>“The first injection was successful,” the doctor piped up. Elise recognized him as the same man who came to take her blood sample what felt like a lifetime ago. He was seemingly utilizing his bedside manner in an attempt to put her at ease. “The first injection being successful increases the chances of the second one taking well, too.”</p>
<p>“So, it won’t hurt him?” Elise said, catching his arm. “Most likely?”</p>
<p>The doctor’s smile wavered. “Ah, well…”</p>
<p>“Don’t you dare fucking answer that question,” Kilgrave said. The doctor’s mouth immediately snapped closed.</p>
<p>Elise stared at the doctor for a moment. Her eyes tracked to Kilgrave, and her lip quivered before she made a quick correction. “What are the chances this will kill you?”</p>
<p>Kilgrave rolled his eyes. He found the nearest examination chair and hopped onto it. The doctor was beckoned over with a wave, and he jumped into action.</p>
<p>“Look, it’s going to sound <em>bad,” </em>Kilgrave said, making himself comfortable. “But it really isn’t. By all rights, the first one should’ve killed me, but I’m fit as a fiddle. This second go will make me even stronger, then absolutely nothing will stand in my way. It’ll be smooth sailing after that, so no need to fret.”</p>
<p>“But you’re already stronger now, right?” Elise said, approaching the chair. “So, you don’t need the second one? We can go, can’t we?”</p>
<p>“Not until I’m sure,” Kilgrave said. His eyes followed the doctor as he pulled on a pair of gloves. The doctor produced a syringe from a small drawer, and the needle was inserted through the rubber top of a vial filled with deep purple liquid.</p>
<p>“But <em>I </em>can handle it!” Elise said. She watched with a pleading expression as Kilgrave’s attention snapped back to her.</p>
<p>“You?”</p>
<p>“Yes!” Elise said, attempting a smile. “I can make people’s powers go away! So even if there is anyone who won’t listen to you, I can make it so they can’t do anything! There’s no need for you to risk your life!”</p>
<p>Kilgrave eyed her up and down, then returned to lying flat on his back with a bored expression. “Well, it wouldn’t be very prudent for me to depend on only that, would it?”</p>
<p>All signs of mirth drained from Elise’s face. “You don’t trust me?”</p>
<p>“Now I didn’t say that,” Kilgrave said, watching the doctor as he tilted rubbing alcohol onto a cotton pad. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”</p>
<p>Panic fluttered in her chest as the needle drew closer to Kilgrave. Elise balled her hands into fists. “If you take that, I’m leaving!”</p>
<p>The needle stilled as the doctor glanced between Kilgrave and Elise. The man pulled back as Kilgrave sat up.</p>
<p>“You,” Kilgrave said, his voice low, “are never leaving.”</p>
<p>Elise’s back straightened. A genuine smile spread over her face. “OK.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave’s expression crumbled. He scrambled out of the chair and stood over Elise. Hands were raised, but Kilgrave stopped just shy of touching her.</p>
<p>“Stand on one foot.”</p>
<p>Elise obliged, committing the action as if it were as natural as breathing.</p>
<p>“Stop,” Kilgrave said, his eyes growing wide. “Stop – put your foot down.”</p>
<p>Elise did as he asked. He took a choppy breath. “What I just said, about you not leaving…ignore that. You do what you want.”</p>
<p>Elise blinked as if she’d been doused with water. A terrified expression fell over her as she backed away.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry!” Kilgrave said, pleading. “Oh, God, Elise – I’m sorry. I wasn’t being careful. I’m not used to being like that with you.”</p>
<p>“Is <em>that </em>what you do?!” Elise said, hugging herself as she backed away. “Oh, my God, that was…and I <em>couldn’t…</em>I wanted to say ‘no,’ so badly, and I <em>couldn’t.”</em></p>
<p>“I won’t do that again, I swear,” Kilgrave said. “That’s not how I want it to be between us. You <em>chose </em>me, Elise, and I want to keep it that way.”</p>
<p>“Are you lying?” Elise said, still backing away. “Are you lying like how you said this injection wasn’t dangerous?” She paused, swallowing. “Are you lying like how you lied about what happened to Anton?”</p>
<p>Kilgrave grew still. Suspicion flickered behind his eyes as he studied her. “Who told you that?”</p>
<p>Elise didn’t answer, her back now against the wall.</p>
<p>“You will tell me,” Kilgrave said, malice seeping into his words, “who told you that.”</p>
<p>“Jessica Jones.” Elise clapped a hand over her mouth as her eyes grew wet.</p>
<p>“Fucking Jessica!” Kilgrave said, sending a tray of surgical scissors flying as he lashed out. “That fucking bitch can’t leave well enough alone!”</p>
<p>As if on cue, a man came crashing through the door. Jessica stepped into the room; the calf of her left leg wrapped in what appeared to be copious layers of duct tape. Her rage bubbled up in a deep bellow as she pulled one of the coolers from its tubing and flung the appliance at the guard standing in front of Kilgrave.</p>
<p>Kilgrave leapt to the side to save himself from being pinned between the guard and the examination chair. He used the chair as a shield and crouched low as he watched the last remaining guard draw his weapon. A shot rang through the air, but Jessica only let out a grunt as the bullet grazed her arm.</p>
<p>There was a whimper from the other end of the room, and Kilgrave’s eyes grew wide. Elise was cowering in the corner, her hands over her mouth.</p>
<p>“Get over here!” Kilgrave said, his voice a low hiss. “Now!”</p>
<p>Elise got to her feet and broke into a sprint. The second she reached Kilgrave’s side, her legs gave out and she crumpled to the floor. He regarded her quivering form for a moment before turning his gaze to the doctor huddled on his other side. “Find something in this room that’ll hurt Jessica – throw it, inject it, make her swallow it – I don’t bloody care. Just stop her!”</p>
<p>The doctor’s terrified expression turned into one of determination as he left the protection of the large chair and made a beeline for the rows of shelving. He let out a yelp as the last guard flew overhead, showering the man in glass shards.</p>
<p>Kilgrave started to scramble away. He looked back to Elise, and spotted something out of the corner of his eye.</p>
<p>“Grab that syringe!” he said, pointing. The object of his attention was immediately scooped up by shaking hands, Elise looking back at him for confirmation.</p>
<p>“Hold on to it tight, now! You can’t let it break or let Jessica take it away, you got it?”</p>
<p>Elise nodded. There was a cry that came from the doctor, and Kilgrave turned his back to Elise as he scrambled to his feet. “Let’s go!”</p>
<p>“What’s the hurry?”</p>
<p>A fist connected with his shoulder. There was a pop, and Kilgrave went tumbling into an operating cart. Metal tools fell to the floor in an impressive crash as Kilgrave cried out.</p>
<p>“Oops,” Jessica said, no sentiment behind the remark. “Guess I forgot to hold back.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave groaned, cradling his arm. His eyes grew wide as Jessica approached.</p>
<p>“Your former cook told me how your powers don’t work on me anymore,” Jessica said as she advanced. “You were gonna get saved from me beating your ass while I took Elise away, but it looks like you got unlucky.”</p>
<p>“STOP!”</p>
<p>Jessica froze. She could do little more than follow Kilgrave with her eyes as he laboriously rose to his feet. For a moment, the only sound was Kilgrave’s haggard breathing as the two of them regarded each other. Kilgrave’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, his voice coming out thick with apprehension.</p>
<p>“Smile, Jessica.”</p>
<p>You would think Jessica had won a lifetime of free bourbon based on her suddenly radiant expression. It left the man facing her absolutely entranced, and despite his pain, he met her sunny smile with one of his own. Kilgrave laughed, his mirth growing louder when Jessica failed to do anything but stare.</p>
<p>“Well, would you look at that!” he exclaimed. “I guess one injection did the trick when it comes to you! You’re weaker than I thought.” Kilgrave closed the distance between them, glass crunching underfoot. He was met by a twitch to her lips as Jessica’s breathing grew ragged.</p>
<p>“Jessica Jones,” Kilgrave said, his eyes alight. “You’re going to stay still like that until I tell you to move again, yeah?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Jessica said, her voice curt. The response left Kilgrave tittering in delight like a schoolchild.</p>
<p>“Oh, what am I going to do to <em>you?” </em>Kilgrave said, pinching her jaw. “Make you eat glass? Nah, you could handle that. Ooh, maybe I’ll have you go home and murder your sister? Wouldn’t that be something?”</p>
<p>Jessica made a pained grunt. Her head was tilted to-and-fro as if Kilgrave were admiring an impressively realistic looking mannequin.</p>
<p>“We should go.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave turned to regard Elise as if she were a child interrupting an adult conversation. “In a moment, petal. I just have to think of a fitting punishment for Jessica. She crossed me…” His gaze returned to Jessica, his smile turning sinister. “Oh yes, she crossed me. And I can’t have that.”</p>
<p>“Please,” Elise said, shifting her weight. “You said we should go.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave mumbled to himself in frustration. “Forget that – we don’t bloody well need to go right now, so don’t get your knickers in a bunch.”</p>
<p>Elise relaxed, but she didn’t let up. “We should still get out of here. Tell Jessica to stay and distract the police. Oh, and this thing,” Elise held up the syringe, “tell me to leave it and then we’ll go.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave scoffed. “Look at you, giving orders! Listen – I’ve been waiting for this for a long, <em>long </em>time, and I’m going to dole out what Jessica deserves. And that injection is coming with us – I’ll take it on the plane ride out of here.”</p>
<p>The expression on Elise’s face grew puzzled. “Why? You don’t need it anymore…and you could die!”</p>
<p>“Jessica is far from the strongest super out there,” Kilgrave said. His grip on Jessica’s face strengthened, and the woman let out a grunt. “I won’t rest easy until I know for certain there isn’t a single person who won’t bend to my will. Then, and <em>only </em>then, will I be safe. The rules will become what I make them, and I’ll have everything I ever wanted.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave looked back to Elise with a smile. <em>“We’ll </em>have everything we ever wanted, petal. No one will stand in our way. Whatever you want, Elise, I’ll make it yours.”</p>
<p>A gurgling sound escaped Jessica’s throat. The noise grew louder when Kilgrave released her cheeks to trace the outline of her smile with his finger. He moved up, and tapped the tip of her nose with a tickled expression.</p>
<p>“Go ahead, Jessica,” Kilgrave said. “Say whatever righteous bullshit is trying to force its way out.”</p>
<p>Jessica’s smile turned into a sneer. “Yeah, you’ll have everything you ever wanted…just not yourself.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave laughed as if she’d told a joke. “What the bloody hell does that even mean? I think you’re really starting to lose it, Jessica.”</p>
<p>“No,” Jessica said, holding his stare. “I’ve never been any clearer since the second I got away from you.”</p>
<p>An exaggerated pout graced Kilgrave’s features. “Aw, Jessica, you can’t really mean that. I gave you everything your angsty little heart could desire; I made you happy. And I bet if I asked you to tell me if you’ve been happier since the two of us parted, you’d be lying if you said yes.”</p>
<p>The false pout turned into a real scowl when Jessica laughed in his face. “Oh yeah, asshole? That time my fist met your goddamn face was the happiest moment in my life. It was better than sex – wait – better than booze <em>and</em> sex.”</p>
<p>Jessica let out a grunt as Kilgrave grabbed a clump of her hair and gave it a good yank. “Maybe I’ll have you come with us, hmm?” Kilgrave said, voice low. “Maybe I’ll have you take a little dive from a couple thousand feet in the air. I’m sure someone of your nature would stay conscious all the way down. You can spend that time to reflect; in fact, you can even have a laugh all the way to the bottom. I gave you your happiest memory, so then it’ll be your turn to give me mine. How does that sound, Jessica?”</p>
<p>Hazel eyes darted over Kilgrave’s shoulder, and Jessica’s defiant appearance immediately crumbled. Her red lips parted in horror as she cried out. “NO!”</p>
<p>Kilgrave whipped around. It took his brain a few seconds to process what was happening, but his eyes finally lingered on the syringe sticking out of Elise’s arm.</p>
<p>“Elise!”</p>
<p>Kilgrave flew across the room. His hands reached Elise just as she was beginning to lower herself to the floor. “What did you do?!” he screamed, panic overtaking him. “WHAT DID YOU DO?!”</p>
<p>“I couldn’t let go,” Elise said, studying her hand. Despite her best efforts, she was unable to keep her grip, and the syringe rolled onto the tile. “And I couldn’t break it.”</p>
<p>“Fuck!” Kilgrave whipped his head around, eyeing the doctor sprawled across the floor. “Go wake him up!” he said, referring to Jessica. “Go wake that fucking doctor up, now!”</p>
<p>Jessica turned to jog in the doctor’s direction as Kilgrave ran a hand over the sweat beading on Elise’s brow.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, petal, I’m sorry,” he said. “You know that, yeah? And you’ll be fine. It’s all fine. Just don’t leave me, Elise – I order you not to: You can’t die.”</p>
<p>“OK,” Elise said, smiling. A purple froth clung to her teeth, and Kilgrave groaned.</p>
<p>“Why did you do that?” Kilgrave said, holding her tighter in an attempt to make up for the chill suddenly running through the woman in his arms. “Tell me why you did that.”</p>
<p>“You scared me.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave’s lip quivered. His eyes began to wander over the room as tears clouded his vision. “Where is that bloody doctor?!”</p>
<p>“I’m trying!” Jessica said, attempting to shake the man awake.</p>
<p>Elise’s arm twitched, then her leg. Her head tilted back, and her eyes took on a glossy sheen as her entire body began to spasm.</p>
<p>“No!” Kilgrave said, his arms straining as if him squeezing her would keep the injection from spreading further. “No, goddamnit! I ordered you to live, and you won’t fucking go against what I say, do you hear me?!”</p>
<p>“Y–yes,” Elise said, lilac foam dribbling from the corner of her lips. Her vision was filled with a pair of large, brown eyes as Kilgrave tilted her head up.</p>
<p>“I love you,” he said, his voice breaking. “God, Elise, I love you so much. Don’t leave me, please. I’ll do anything – anything you ask. Just don’t die.”</p>
<p>The plea was only met with short gasps as Elise stared at him. Kilgrave momentarily broke their gaze to take a sharp inhale through his nose. “Anything, Elise. I’ll give you anything. I’ll take you anywhere you want. Just tell me what you want.”</p>
<p>The tremor in her hand was giving Elise trouble wrapping her fingers around his own. Kilgrave picked up the slack as he strengthened his grip.</p>
<p>“I don’t,” Elise said, swallowing hard. “I don’t want to be alone.”    </p>
<p>Kilgrave pulled Elise into a tight embrace, resting her head on his shoulder. “Never, petal; never. I’m going to take you to Venice, hmm? You’ll like that, won’t you? I’ll give you a house, and a yard, and even a bloody dog. You’ll have everything, Elise. Everything you ever wanted.”</p>
<p>Something warm ran down the front of his shirt. Kilgrave’s lips trembled as he watched the oozing trail of purple bile seep through the material. His eyes snapped to the ceiling, his breaths growing frantic. “I’m not going to leave you here, I promise. I’m not going to walk through those blasted doors unless you’re there with me. I can’t … I won’t have somebody else leave.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the back of Elise’s head. He regarded the ceiling like it had personally wronged him. “You fucking bitch. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. I’m not going to let you bloody leave, do you hear me? If I’m going to stay, then you’re going to stay. Tell me you’re staying, Elise!”</p>
<p>There was no answer. Kilgrave gave Elise a shake as if she were a defective toy, and a gurgle escaped his shoulder. His eyes remained on the ceiling, but the rage tainting Kilgrave’s features melted away.</p>
<p>“Tell me you love me, Elise.”</p>
<p>“I lo–” Elise gasped for air, bubbles forming around her breath. “I love you.”</p>
<p>“And you mean it?” Kilgrave said, leaning her back so his eyes could track over her face. “Do you really mean it, Elise?”</p>
<p>Elise coughed. She opened her mouth, and grew still. The seconds stretched on, and Kilgrave gave Elise another shake. Her head lolled to the side, blue eyes staring into nothing.</p>
<p>“You …” Kilgrave’s voice drifted away. He shook Elise with more force, but she didn’t move.</p>
<p>“This fucking guy isn’t going to wake up!” Jessica yelled from across the room. “Let me go get help!”</p>
<p>There was no answer. Trembling fingers brushed aside clumps of brown hair held together by sweat and purple bile.</p>
<p>“You’re not leaving,” Kilgrave said, ignoring Jessica entirely. “I know you can hear me. Tell me you’re not leaving! Answer me, Elise!”</p>
<p>There was no reply. Kilgrave’s features twisted, seemingly unable to settle between shock or outrage.</p>
<p>“Let me go get someone!” Jessica said, still shaking the unconscious doctor against her better judgement. “You fucking asshole! You can even order me to carry her to the goddamn hospital, for all I care!”</p>
<p>“THIS IS YOUR FAULT!”</p>
<p>Kilgrave’s lips pulled back in a snarl as he turned on Jessica. “Look at what you’ve bloody fucking done!”</p>
<p>Jessica’s hands slowed, but her grip on the lapels of the unconscious doctor’s jacket didn’t weaken. She stared back at Kilgrave, her jaw dropping. <em>“My </em>fault? My fucking fault?! She died trying to save you, dipshit!”</p>
<p>“No,” Kilgrave said, nostrils flaring, “she died because you bloody came in here and … and you … she … she <em>died </em>because …”</p>
<p>Kilgrave’s breaths grew ragged. He looked down at Elise, his expression crumbling. His lips flapped soundlessly for a moment before he reached out to tilt Elise’s face toward him.</p>
<p>“Petal,” Kilgrave said, lacing his voice with as much authority as he could muster. “You … you will do what I want, hmm? And you’re going to get up. You’re not leaving me, understand? You promised me that. You <em>promised </em>me you weren’t leaving! Don’t you break your promise to me, Elise! Don’t you break your promise and leave me all alone! Don’t you bloody <em>dare, </em>do you hear me?!”</p>
<p>“What the hell is <em>wrong</em> with you?” Jessica said, her voice a low growl. “You fucking killed her. You killed her, and all you can do berate her goddamn corpse!”</p>
<p>“I didn’t kill her!” Kilgrave shouted, hitting Jessica with a crazed expression.</p>
<p>Jessica shook her head. To Kilgrave’s surprise, she seemed to find his statement humorous.</p>
<p>“Just like how you didn’t kill that woman before the bus crash, right?” Jessica said. “But we both know who the common denominator here is … don’t we, asshole?”</p>
<p>Kilgrave looked away, his eyes dancing around the room. “You did this.”</p>
<p>“I tried to get her out of here,” Jessica said. “You’re the one who told her she couldn’t drop that goddamn needle.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave’s eyes drifted to Elise’s face in an almost reluctant manner. Despite himself, a rattling sob escaped his chest. He ran a hand over his face, leaving a streak of purple bile down his cheek.</p>
<p>“I didn’t …” Kilgrave said, his voice coming out in a croak. <em>“I </em>wasn’t the one–”</p>
<p>Kilgrave brought his forehead to Elise’s, unable to hold back the tremor to his voice. “You can’t expect me go alone. You can’t expect me to leave you here. I don’t … I don’t …”</p>
<p>Whatever Kilgrave was saying was too faint for Jessica to hear. He buried his face in Elise’s shoulder alongside a pained whine. And then he began to cry.</p>
<p>The grip on the doctor’s jacket didn’t loosen – it couldn’t, at any rate – but the rest of Jessica grew still as she regarded Kilgrave. The lifeless form in his arms shook from his racking sobs; half-lidded eyes staring off into the distance as if trying to politely give Kilgrave a sense of privacy. Jessica didn’t have any such inhibitions – watching the display in a horrified fascination.</p>
<p>Eventually, Kilgrave lifted his head. Shaking fingers ran down the length of Elise’s cheek. There was a swift inhale of breath, and Kilgrave’s breaths grew steady.</p>
<p>“Let him go, Jessica.” Kilgrave turned to regard Jessica as the doctor flopped to the floor. The two of them stared at one another – Jessica’s mind whirring as she tried to interpret the almost serene look on Kilgrave’s face. The silence was broken as Kilgrave spoke in a flat tone.</p>
<p>“I’m not like you, Jessica.”</p>
<p>Jessica’s brow furrowed, her lips pulling back. “What?”</p>
<p>“You just bloody walked away.” Kilgrave grit his teeth. “You all just bloody walked away. I was always the one who stayed.”</p>
<p>Jessica met Kilgrave’s enraged stare with one of her own. “There’s a reason why everyone left you.”</p>
<p>Kilgrave broke their gaze to stare down at Elise. The anger ebbed away, replaced by a steadfast expression. “I won’t be that; I’m not leaving.”</p>
<p>Jessica scoffed. “You can’t stay here forever, asshole.”</p>
<p>“You’re going to kill me, Jessica.”</p>
<p>Jessica rose, although her movements were jerky as if she were learning to use her limbs for the first time.</p>
<p>“No!” she screamed, fighting her body as it stepped forward. “NO! I don’t want to kill someone again!”</p>
<p>“No worries,” Kilgrave said, dropping his eyes. “It’s like the time with that other woman you mentioned, hmm? It’s not really you doing it, now, is it?”</p>
<p>“Just turn yourself in,” Jessica said, glass crunching beneath her boots. “Even if it’s you, I don’t want any more fucking blood on my hands!”</p>
<p>“I think that’s a lie, Jessica,” Kilgrave said, looking over his shoulder as she approached. “I believe that, not so very deep down, you want to kill me.” A wry smile drifted over his face. “Think of this as a parting gift.”</p>
<p>“Fuck you!” Jessica said, her unsteady gait causing her to kick a cooler aside. “Just grab a gun off of one of these assholes and do it yourself! Don’t drag me into your martyrdom bullshit!”</p>
<p> Kilgrave regarded her with a fond expression before dropping his gaze. “I’m far too much of a coward for that, Jessica; as I’m sure you’re aware. No…this will do.”</p>
<p>Jessica stopped behind him. Her hands moved forward as Kilgrave ran his finger along Elise’s jawline.</p>
<p>“I can’t leave her alone,” Kilgrave said, wiping the purple bile from Elise’s lips. “But you tried to save her, yeah?”</p>
<p>Jessica didn’t answer, her fingers brushing against his hair.</p>
<p>“Thank you, Jessica.”</p>
<p>Jessica’s hands grasped either side of his head. There was a quick jerking motion, a pop, and Kilgrave’s voice inside her subconscious dissipated like fog in a beam of sunlight.</p><hr/>
<p>
  <em>They say there’s always a light at the end of a tunnel. No one mentioned how much shit you need to trip over before you get there.</em>
</p>
<p>“Oh, my God – you have got to be kidding.”</p>
<p>Jessica scowled, her boots thumping against the tile as she strode toward the door to her apartment.</p>
<p>“It looks like some sort of ritualistic offering,” Trish said, unable to keep the smirk from her face. There had to be at least seven loaves of bread sitting in front of the door; each loaf shining in the artificial glow from copious layers of saran wrap.</p>
<p>There was a note front-and-center like a flag atop a mountain. Jessica snatched it up, flicking the small paper open.</p>
<p>
  <em>‘Sorry your friend died.’</em>
</p>
<p>Jessica’s expression relaxed. She folded the note, stuffing it into her pocket as Trish approached.</p>
<p>“I take it this is from the weird guy upstairs?” Trish said, raising a brow as she surveyed what could easily be a quarter of a bakery.</p>
<p>“I bumped into him on my way out,” Jessica said, crossing her arms. “He … uh … noticed the black pants and made an assumption.”</p>
<p>“Oh,” Trish said, now feeling somewhat sheepish. “Well, that was pretty sweet of him, wasn’t it?”</p>
<p>“Please don’t encourage him,” Jessica said, unlocking the door. After a few trips of shuttling back and forth, the loaves of bread found a new home piled on Jessica’s kitchen table.</p>
<p>“It’s a good thing I don’t gain weight,” Jessica said, unwrapping a loaf that appeared to be blueberry. “The shit this guy brings over is like, half my diet.”</p>
<p>“And the other half is booze,” Trish said, helping herself to a chunk of the loaf. “It’s a wonder you’re still standing.”</p>
<p>“Miracles happen.”</p>
<p>Jessica wandered over to the couch. She fell into the cushions, staring up at the ceiling and the nondescript brown stain looking back at her.</p>
<p>Trish stepped out of the kitchen, watching Jessica for a moment before daring to speak. “You OK?”</p>
<p>“Never been better.”</p>
<p>“Jess ...”</p>
<p>“What do you want me to say?” Jessica said, turning to regard her. “I just went to a memorial service filled with people mourning a woman that I couldn’t fucking save. Oh yeah, I’m feeling fucking <em>peachy.”</em></p>
<p>Trish let out a long sigh. She nudged Jessica aside, her companion letting out a huff but obliging to allocate some room on the couch. Another sound of annoyance escape Jessica’s lips as Trish guided her head to lean on her shoulder. Considering their difference in strength levels, the fact that Jessica cooperated at all validated Trish’s motivation behind the comforting gesture. She stroked Jessica’s hair in an absent-minded fashion as the two women gazed ahead.</p>
<p>“I almost wanted her to be there, you know,” Jessica said, using a tone that made it hard to tell if she were really speaking to Trish or just herself. “I wanted Penny Westcott to be there and just royally kick my ass. Or as close as she could get, anyway.”</p>
<p>Penny, along with a few friends and coworkers, had flown down to Texas for the actual burial. Despite Jessica’s best efforts, assistance arrived too late for Elise. Her conscience had been partially eased when she was assured that even if Elise had received immediate medical attention, it wouldn’t have helped. Even so, Jessica couldn’t stop blaming herself for Elise being in that situation in the first place.</p>
<p>She should’ve tried harder back in the car.</p>
<p>She should’ve tried harder in the warehouse.</p>
<p>She should’ve tried harder finding out where Kilgrave was holed up.</p>
<p>She should’ve made sure Kilgrave was really fucking dead when that bus hit him.</p>
<p>“I’m tired of hearing you talk like you didn’t do anything,” Trish said. A firmness crept into her tone giving her sister the impression that this would be the sound Trish’s future children would hear on a regular basis.</p>
<p>“You did everything you could, Jess. You worked yourself to the bone to try and bring Elise back. And I know that it hurts how things turned out; but in the end, there was only so much you could do. If you were able to make all of her decisions for her, then that would make you no better than him.”</p>
<p>Jessica brought her hand to her mouth, gnawing on an already jagged nail. When she spoke, it was as if the words were forcibly being yanked out one-by-one.</p>
<p>“When I was stuck with that asshole, all I could pray for was that someone would come and find me. Every single second that I was sitting there, screaming inside my own head to be let out, all I wanted was for someone to rescue me.”</p>
<p>Trish looked away. She sniffed, blinking back tears. “Jess, I’m so sorry. I know I should’ve–”</p>
<p>“I’m not…this isn’t about you,” Jessica said, irritation creeping into her voice. “You know I don’t blame you, Trish. I don’t…blame anyone. The police, maybe. But it’s not like they were equipped to deal with someone like Kilgrave right off the bat, either. I think I just … I just blamed myself for not being strong enough to fight back.”</p>
<p>“But that’s so stupid,” Trish said, dabbing at the corners of her eyes. “Jess, you’re the strongest person I know. Kilgrave was just a monster.”</p>
<p>“But I wasn’t all that bad, was I?”</p>
<p>The figment of Jessica’s imagination grinned. Kilgrave ambled across the room, lifting the blinds to gaze out into the street. “You saw a side of me that was even worse than the whole ‘murderous psycho’ façade you’d built up, hmm?”</p>
<p>Jessica didn’t answer. Her eyes tracked Kilgrave as he left the window and strolled toward the couch. His attention lingered on Trish for a moment as the blonde woman fished a tissue out of her suit jacket. He made a face when she blew her nose, and looked back to Jessica.</p>
<p>“That last bit before I died ‘humanized’ me, didn’t it?” Kilgrave said, sounding giddy over the fact. “It made you think that maybe, just <em>maybe, </em>I really wasn’t all that bad.”</p>
<p>A muscle twitched as Jessica set her jaw. This caused her imaginary companion to laugh.</p>
<p>“Oh, you <em>hate </em>that,” Kilgrave said. “You hate thinking that if you’d just left well enough alone, perhaps Elise would be alive, and I’d be out there actually helping people. Well, suppose now you’ll never know.”</p>
<p>Jessica growled. “You’ve never wanted to help anyone but yourself.”</p>
<p>“Maybe,” Kilgrave said, shooting her a wink.</p>
<p>“Huh?” Trish said, crumpling up her tissue. “Sorry, I missed that.”</p>
<p>“Nothing,” Jessica said. She stared ahead at the now very empty looking living room.</p>
<p>“I think I’m going to join the police academy.”</p>
<p>Trish chuckled. When no further remark came, she glanced down. Jessica was still looking ahead with a solemn expression.</p>
<p>“Oh, my God,” Trish said, her brow rising. “Oh, my God, Jess, I’m so sorry! I thought you were joking!”</p>
<p>“It does sound kinda like a joke, doesn’t it?” Jessica said, lifting her head from Trish’s shoulder. She reached up, letting out a grunt as she stretched.</p>
<p>“I mean, wow,” Trish said, watching Jessica with a look between awe and concern. “I mean…you never struck me as the type to want to be a cop.”</p>
<p>Jessica casually leaned against the couch, watching Trish with a raised brow. “What gave you that impression?”</p>
<p>“Uh, the fact that you used to call cops ‘sadistic, classist pigs’ directly to their face.”</p>
<p>“That was just a phase,” Jessica said, waving away the notion.</p>
<p>“That was a few months ago.”</p>
<p>“Whatever,” Jessica said. “NYPD has a lot of resources that make investigations a hell of a lot easier than doing shit on my own. And I think there needs to be more people out there willing to go the extra mile for those who can’t save themselves.”</p>
<p>Trish smiled, leaning forward until she caught Jessica’s eye. “I’m proud of you, Jess.”</p>
<p>“Don’t be,” Jessica said, her eyes dancing over the floor. She spotted something on the other side of the couch, and a bottle of whisky was pulled into view. “I haven’t done jack shit yet. I’m probably due to self-implode before that.”</p>
<p>Slender fingers wrapped themselves around the bottle. Jessica scowled, staring Trish down. As the memory of what happened the <em>last </em>time the two of them tried to play tug-of-war over a bottle floated to the surface, Jessica relented with a groan.</p>
<p>“If you’re going to join the force,” Trish said, rising to place the bottle on a nearby shelf. “You have to quit day drinking.”</p>
<p>“You sound like Costa,” Jessica said, her expression coming off as more of a pout than intended.</p>
<p>“That was the guy at the memorial, right?” Trish said, leaning against Jessica’s desk. “Was he the one helping you out most of the time?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Jessica said, her expression relaxing. “He’s a good guy – he said if I do well enough in the academy, he could probably pull some strings and have us assigned as partners after my graduation.”</p>
<p>“Uh huh,” Trish said, crossing her arms. “Jess, the two of you aren’t…you know…?”</p>
<p>Jessica’s lax nature disappeared in an instant. “Are you serious?! The dude is gayer than a tree-full of monkeys on nitrous oxide.”</p>
<p>“Oh! Really?” Trish said. “Sorry, I, uh…wait – what the hell was that metaphor?”</p>
<p>“Read a book,” Jessica said, getting to her feet. “And unless you’re gonna feed me something other than a layer of banana bread sandwiched between two layers of blueberry bread, then get the hell out of my apartment.”</p>
<p>Trish rolled her eyes. She whipped out her phone, tapping the screen. “Pizza OK?”</p>
<p>“We’re in New York,” Jessica said. “Pizza’s always OK.”</p>
<p>Trish smirked. She ordered a pizza, and the pair spent the evening chatting about Trish’s new coworker, Jessica’s on-again, off-again relationship with a guy named Luke…</p>
<p>And the future, and where it may take them.</p><hr/>
<p>When the phone rings at 3:00am, it can never be good. Costa had been doing this for long enough to be aware of the fact. When the voice on the other end says that it absolutely has to be <em>you </em>that comes in, then it’s especially not good.</p>
<p>And so, Costa was already feeling like a weight had been dropped in his stomach when he rolled out of bed, reassured his husband he’d be back soon, and threw on the suit that was waiting for him at his bedside.</p>
<p>Sunday was there to pick him up, looking far more put together than she had any right to be this early in the morning. It was possible she’d never left the precinct the night before, which would explain a lot.</p>
<p>An ambulance and two other cop cars were waiting outside the high-rise with their lights off. A handful of black sedans with men and women in suits were around, which explained the lack of emergency lights. There was no way the incident could be kept under wraps for long, but there was no need to draw undue attention, either.</p>
<p>A few people were milling about the lobby – tenants of the building, most likely. They whispered to each other behind their hands as Costa and Sunday passed. Neither detective gave them a second glance as they stepped into the elevator. Sunday hit the button for the sixty-third floor, then stuffed her hands in her pockets as the doors slid shut. It wasn’t until they were passing the forty-second floor that Sunday decided to speak.</p>
<p>“I know I’ve said some shit about her,” she said, staring ahead. “But let Jones know I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>Costa nodded. His reflection in the chrome doors looked back at him like a man headed to the gallows. This wasn’t the first – nor would it likely be the last – time he’d arrived at a crime scene like this, but it still chipped away at him every time.</p>
<p>The doors opened with a pleasant ding. Heads turned as they stepped into the hallway, and Costa nodded at the NYPD members lining either side. They entered the apartment at the far end, and the sea of pressed uniforms fell away and were replaced by more men and women in black suits.</p>
<p>“Detective Costa,” a voice said, prompting him to regard the figure approaching from the hallway leading off of the spacious living area.</p>
<p>“Agent Coulson,” Costa said, accepting the man’s handshake. “You mind explaining to me why S.H.I.E.L.D is handling this investigation?”</p>
<p>“Oh,” Coulson said, having moved on to offer Sunday his hand. “Right to the point.”</p>
<p>“He thinks you suspect Jones,” Sunday said. If this had been any other incident, the statement would’ve been said with contempt. But as it were, Sunday offered up the information as if she were daring Coulson to be foolish enough to agree.</p>
<p>“Oh, no, Ms. Jones isn’t a suspect,” Coulson said, quickly trying to put the detectives at ease. “We know she’s been at the police academy for the past few months, and that she wasn’t anywhere in the area when the incident happened.”</p>
<p>Costa nodded. He put his hands on his hips, his eyes roaming about the posh apartment. “According to what I’ve heard, evidence points to a suicide. You’re making it pretty clear you don’t suspect that to be the case, though.”</p>
<p>“We, uh … we don’t,” Coulson said, looking at his feet. He shook his head before turning around and walking down the hallway. Costa and Sunday were on his heels, and hooked a left as they entered the bathroom.</p>
<p>“Aw, fuck.”</p>
<p>Costa knew what to expect. Sunday had told him, so he had prepared himself. But seeing Patricia Walker, her blue eyes glazed over as she stared at the ceiling, made his stomach churn. The blank, open-mouth gaze hit him harder than the wrists with slits up to her elbows and the tub full of a liquid that was debatably more blood than water.</p>
<p>“I liked her,” Sunday said as her eyes roved over the body. “I used to listen to her show every morning.”</p>
<p>“Her assistant asked the superintendent to do a wellness check when Ms. Walker didn’t show up for work,” Coulson said, crossing his arms. “Apparently, Ms. Walker not calling in was unusual enough to warrant the visit.”</p>
<p>“And somehow, you guys intercepted that call,” Costa said, raising an eyebrow. This was met with a somewhat guilty expression.</p>
<p>“There was…an <em>incident, </em>a few weeks ago,” Coulson said. “We’ve been on high alert since then, and this report checked off a lot of boxes.”</p>
<p>A man in a hazmat suit excused himself as he stepped into the room. Coulson tilted his head, and the three of them stepped back out into the hallway.</p>
<p>“Now, I may not be a part of some super-secret government agency,” Costa said, not bothering to hide the sarcasm. “But I’d be hard-pressed to call what I saw in there anything other than a suicide.”</p>
<p>“Well,” Coulson said, shifting his weight. “I wouldn’t blame you. It looks that way, doesn’t it?”</p>
<p>“Was someone else holding the weapon?” Sunday asked. “Did they drug her? Is there evidence they forced her to do it?”</p>
<p>“No to all points,” Coulson said. “We have reason to believe Ms. Walker took her life by her own accord with no outside physical force.”</p>
<p>“So, what the fuck is this?” Costa said, indicating the scene of suits taking samples and flashing camera bulbs.</p>
<p>“Like I said,” Coulson said, sounding weary. “There was an incident a few weeks ago. A patient we had under observation at one of our facilities escaped, and we have reason to believe they’re the force behind Ms. Walker’s death.”</p>
<p>Costa and Sunday shared a confused glance. They stepped aside as Coulson moved past them and into the living room.</p>
<p>“They’re considered highly dangerous, and their escape resulted in the deaths of eighteen security personnel at the facility,” Coulson said. He walked up to the dining room table, regarding a slip of paper that had been encased in a plastic bag.</p>
<p>“So, if this guy could do something like <em>that,” </em>Costa said, furrowing his brow. “What’s the connection with a suicide?”</p>
<p>Coulson’s shoulders slumped. “Those men and women were killed when they opened fire on each other. It’s hard to tell <em>exactly </em>what happened, since the security footage was wiped, but we do know for sure why they acted that way.”</p>
<p>Costa’s heart couldn’t help but to go out to the man when Coulson looked back at them. He had seen the expression before – that mix of grief and regret that goes along with losing someone under your care.</p>
<p>“Those men and women,” Coulson said. “Were compelled to kill one another. They were given an order by the patient, and they couldn’t say no even if they wanted to.”</p>
<p>It was like his body had been shocked with cold water. Thoughts tumbled through Costa’s mind, the one sticking to the forefront being a woman with dark hair and hazel eyes consenting to his encouragement to join the police academy. He remembered the way she smiled, and how it seemed that there had been something looming over her before – something that made her <em>less. </em>But she was free of that, now, and had a chance to become what she was meant to be.</p>
<p>Or perhaps, maybe not.</p>
<p>“How the fuck …” Costa said, having trouble articulating the words. “He was fucking dead! I saw him! He was dead! What the fuck did you do?!”</p>
<p>Coulson took a fearful step back. There was a hand placed on Costa’s shoulder, and Sunday’s nails dug through the material.</p>
<p>“It’s not Kilgrave.”</p>
<p>The words hung in the air. Costa’s face shifted like a kaleidoscope as he struggled to settle on an emotion. This prompted Coulson to pick up the piece of plastic-encased paper on the table. He handed it to Costa as an offering.</p>
<p>Costa snatched the paper. His hand was shaking, but it was easy enough to read the large, looping script.</p>
<p>
  <em>‘He was supposed to live’</em>
</p>
<p>There was a pause, but at the end of the day, Costa was still a detective. Pieces fell into place, including a memory of finding Jessica Jones collapsed on a floor riddled with glass – bawling her eyes out over the person she couldn’t save.</p>
<p>“Elise Stratford,” Costa said, in disbelieve over his own conclusion. “Whatever that shit was didn’t kill her.”</p>
<p>“We intercepted the bodies on the way to the hospital,” Coulson said. He held up his hands in a placating manner as Costa regarded him with fire behind his eyes. “We were going to conduct the autopsy, as per our rights concerning citizens of a gifted nature. We had also been integrated into the Stratford case when it was brought to our attention by a woman named Penny Westcott.”</p>
<p>Coulson cleared his throat in an uncomfortable manner as Costa continued the stare-down. “It was when we swapped Ms. Stratford to our own medical vehicle that we picked up signs of life. We sprang into action, and saved her.”</p>
<p>“How?” Sunday asked.</p>
<p>“Classified,” Coulson said, smiling apologetically. “Sorry.”</p>
<p>“So, she…” Costa swallowed, looking about. “She had your guys kill each other, and did <em>that </em>to Ms. Walker?” He shook his head, a frown settling on his face. “I have a real hard time believing that.”</p>
<p>“It was very unexpected,” Coulson said. “We had no idea she’d picked up that ability, much less could use it as effectively as Kilgrave supposedly could. Apparently, when Ms. Stratford wanted to leave our facility, she refused to let anything stop her.”</p>
<p>“And Ms. Walker,” Sunday said. “That was revenge for Kilgrave?”</p>
<p>“But he was a suicide,” Costa said, growing distressed. “According to Jones, he forced her to kill him. As much as Jones had it out for the guy, I know she isn’t the type to kill unless she’s backed up against the wall.”</p>
<p>“Based on that,” Coulson said, indicating the evidence in Costa’s hand. “I think Detective Sunday’s speculation is the strongest assumption.”</p>
<p>Sunday’s expression hardened as she watched Costa let out a silent swear. She crossed her arms and looked ahead. “So, what do we do?”</p>
<p>Costa’s eyes snapped to her before quickly changing his focus to Coulson. The object of their attention took a deep breath before speaking.</p>
<p>“We’re already compiling a list of possible targets,” Coulson said. It was obvious where this was headed, and the crushing feeling in his chest only amplified when the agent put Costa in his sights.</p>
<p>“Jessica Jones is in danger. She’ll need to be relocated to a safe location, and…and informed of Ms. Walker’s death.”</p>
<p>“I’ll do it,” Sunday said before anyone could interject. She met Costa’s gaze with a gentle expression. “I’ll do it.”</p>
<p>“No,” Costa said, his voice coming out like a croak. He cleared his throat before turning and heading toward the door. He glanced one last time at the note in his hand before placing on a nearby end table. “I’ll join the escort and be the one to tell her.”</p>
<p>Sunday didn’t follow. One of the officers in the hall saw him coming and hit the button for the elevator. The doors opened, and Costa stepped inside without a word. The button for the ground floor was flicked and the doors promptly slid closed.</p>
<p>“Son of a bitch.”</p>
<p><em>“I couldn’t help her,” </em>Jessica’s voice echoed. She’d stood next to him at the memorial, at least twenty feet back from the others who had come there to grieve. Patricia Walker had been with them, saying words of comfort and attempting to lighten the mood when Jessica’s comments risked getting too dark.</p>
<p><em>“I don’t want other women to end up like that,” </em>Jessica said, meeting his gaze then.</p>
<p>
  <em>“They need someone on the force who actually gives a shit. They need someone to fight for them.”</em>
</p>
<p>“FUCK!”</p>
<p>The bang bounced around him as Costa’s fist met metal. He shouted in frustration, pacing.</p>
<p>Kilgrave was dead.</p>
<p>Elise Stratford was dead.</p>
<p>What was here now was something twisted and unnatural. It was pitiful, and horrifying, and heartbreaking. It was a thing that had Kilgrave’s power, but left behind the egotistical and risky behavior. There was a dangerous focus, and a will behind it that left almost twenty people dead in its wake, if not more.</p>
<p>This creature had the talk show host bleed to death in a spot it once found comforting. The red which swiftly replaced the clear water reflected that a bathtub was now anything but a safe space.</p>
<p>Eyes that failed to regard the naked woman as a person watched in disinterest before looking away. Wet footprints mingled with blood entered the living room. An apple was snagged from the counter, and a cheerful hum accented a slip of paper being torn from Trish’s planner. The pen, however, was the creature’s own, and the purple ink seeped through the paper and left a stain on the hardwood table.</p>
<p>
  <em>‘He was supposed to live’</em>
</p>
<p>The pen disappeared into the suit jacket taken from Trish’s closet. The carefree humming continued, the only other sound being the clattering of metal when a razor fell from lifeless fingers. This prompted a glance down the hallway, but nothing more as the creature left the apartment.</p>
<p>“NYPD Police Academy,” the creature said, taking another bite of the apple. It waited without fuss for the elevator to arrive. There was a pleasant ‘ding,’ and a glowing expression greeted the figure waiting behind the doors.</p>
<p>“That’s not so bad,” the figment of the creature’s imagination said. Unlike Jessica’s apparition, this version of Kilgrave had tracks of purple tears running down his face; the excess dripping from his chin and forming small pools around his feet. A splatter of plum graced the front of his jacket as he tilted his head to track his companion. He didn’t seem to mind, though, as his expression only brightened. “Shouldn’t be too long of a drive. We’ll be there in a jiff, won’t we, petal?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” the thing said as the doors slid closed. Lines of purple also graced its cheeks – but they were dry, and cracked over its skin as its smile widened. “It will be pleasant.”</p>
<p>“As long as we’re together,” Kilgrave said, looking where his own reflection would be if he had one.</p>
<p>“As long as we’re together,” the thing echoed, before taking another bite of apple.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so much for reading! I'm always trying to improve as a writer, so any comments or critiques are welcome. <br/>I wanted to write a story that focused on the subject of emotional abuse, since I myself was in a relationship for some time where I was left feeling small and like I had been shaped into a different person than who I really wanted to be. My fate, luckily, was very different than Elise's. But the cycle of a abuse is real, and it's very possible for someone who was abused to morph into an abuser themselves. There's no point in sticking around; despite outward appearances, don't try to 'save' someone who doesn't want to change. You can gauge how successful Elise was in her efforts, for example, based on how much focus Kilgrave gave her death actually being about her before twisting the focus on himself. <br/>In conclusion: be like Jessica Jones. You're the hero of your own story, and you deserve better than someone who's going to dictate your life for you. Just ... watch the alcohol consumption. lol</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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